The Trouble with Trust
by Jade4813
Summary: Clark and Lois pose undercover as a married couple to draw out a serial killer in their first assignment together at the Daily Planet. Their lives depend upon each other, but can they trust each other enough to survive? Sequel to The Trouble with Love.
1. Left Behind

**A/N: **My contribution to the Summer Challenge over at DI this year. This one's going to be a long one, but I can't help it! When the inspiration strikes, it refuses to be dismissed! This is also, just so everyone knows, a sequel of sorts to "The Trouble with Love" – first, because that story has been stuck in my head since and refused to go away, and second, because I just really wanted to.

I hope you enjoy this, shortcircuit85! Incidentally, for those who are interested, the challenge was "Any season, R to NC-17, "Towel." Well, this story will feature a towel (I promise), it will take place in S8 (if "The Trouble with Love" happened in S7, and (if everything goes the way I plan) it will range from R to NC-17.

Let's get started! Just remember: I own nothing but the writing itself.

**The Trouble with Trust**

**Part One: Left Behind**

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

The annoying sound of the alarm clock pulled Lois out of what had been an extremely pleasant dream involving that – as all the best dreams do – evaporated instantaneously upon her opening her eyes. Grumbling softly, she rolled over and slapped the off button before dragging her body into a sitting position. Though the sudden movement caused a few of the sheets of paper scattered atop her comforter to flutter about and fall to the floor, she hardly noticed and cared even less. Instead, she blinked blearily at her alarm clock, taking a few moments to remember why she had to get up and moving this morning; her editors at the Daily Planet tended to be sticklers about showing up on time.

Stifling a yawn behind her hand, Lois rose slowly to her feet and shuffled towards the door. She'd definitely need to get some coffee in her – and fast– if she planned on being anything close to approaching human today.

Fifteen minutes and three guzzled mugs of coffee later, she finally felt a little more ready to tackle her day. Jogging back upstairs to the bedroom Clark had offered her when her apartment over the Talon had burned down several months before, she raced over to the closet and prepared to get dressed.

As it had every morning for two months, the sight of Clark's clothes lined up neatly in front of her hit her like a punch to the stomach. Her purpose momentarily forgotten, Lois stepped forward and closed her eyes, breathing in the all too familiar scent of soap and cologne that seemed to linger on everything she touched lately. It was in the air she breathed as she lay on the couch and watched television at night, the pillow she rested her head on at night, and the shirt she was wearing even now.

Her eyes fluttering open, she grimaced in pain and glanced down at the shirt in question. Her movements slow and deliberate, she unfastened the long row of buttons and slipped the well worn cotton fabric off her shoulders. Had there been anyone around to see her moment of weakness, she probably wouldn't have displayed it; however, as she was alone, she allowed the tears to burn in her eyes (though she refused to let them fall) as she gently replaced the rumpled shirt back onto its hanger and replaced it amongst its brethren. Then, as she did every morning, she tried to push all thoughts of her best friend out of her mind as she pulled on one of the few outfits she'd acquired in recent months and prepared for work.

If only it really was so easy to forget Clark, but she had yet to figure out the trick to it. Heaven knew she'd tried everything. In the past, she'd never had much problem forgetting anyone when it was all said and done (or at least letting her pride do its best to pretend to have forgotten them), but, then again, it wasn't like this was a typical situation. Clark wasn't an ex-boyfriend, to be promptly and mercifully forgotten; he was her best friend, and he'd disappeared into thin air.

He'd promised her he'd never leave her, and then he left. She didn't know where, she didn't know why, and she didn't know when he'd be back. Or even if he'd be back. Or even if he could…

She pushed the thought out of her mind. Wherever he was, he was fine. He'd come back. Someday. Someday he'd come home, and then she'd…well, she'd either kiss him or kill him, depending on where he'd been.

Seeing the time out of the corner of her eye, Lois realized she had to hurry if she was going to get to work at anything even approaching on time. Throwing on the rest of her clothes, she raced out the door.


	2. Partners?

**Part Two: Partners?!**

"Lois? Lois! Earth to Lois!" Jimmy's voice finally penetrated her consciousness, and Lois awoke with a start. Glancing around desperately, she finally caught sight of the man standing next to her and tried to force a nonchalant smile on her face, even as she sent a desperate hope up to the heavens that she didn't have drool on her chin.

"Er…what's up, Jimmy?" she asked as casually as she could manage.

He didn't answer her question immediately. Instead, he fixed her with a sympathetic look. "Another late night?" he asked softly.

Grimacing at him, she nodded. He had become something of an odd confidante for her in the last couple of months, but he had been the only one she'd felt she could turn to after Clark had disappeared. It was rather sad, she reflected, but now that Chloe was off in Star City helping Oliver and Company save the world, James Olsen was the second closest friend Lois had.

What a rather depressing thought. Not because Jimmy was a bad guy – in fact, the two of them often worked together on stories Lois wanted to investigate. But it was still a depressing thought, given that the most personal thing he knew about her was that she spent her days working as an investigative reporter at the Daily Planet and her nights trying to find the man who bore the mantle of best friend to Lois Lane, who seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Scowling, she rubbed her hand across her face, wondering if she looked as exhausted as she felt. If the look on Jimmy's face was any indication, she might have actually looked worse. Great. Just what she needed. "Not too late," she lied. "I went to bed around two." Or four. Actually, more like a quarter after five. But he didn't need to know that.

He was still looking at her sympathetically, but he thankfully didn't press the issue. Honestly, Lois didn't know what was worse: that he clearly felt like someone should be taking better care of her, or that she wasn't entire certain he was wrong about that. "Er…anyway," he said a bit awkwardly as an uncomfortable silence fell between them. "I wanted to let you know I finally finished that project for Gibson, so if you need a Boy Friday to come along with you on your next story, I'm your man!"

She chuckled, but even as the sound crossed her lips, her expression morphed into a scowl. "Thanks, but I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you." When Jimmy's face fell, she explained, "First thing's first, there has to actually _be_ a story. And right now, that isn't going too well."

"The Chief still isn't going for your idea?" he asked, referring to a story Lois had been trying to pitch for almost a week. She'd been shot down every time, but that didn't stop her from bringing it up every time there was a chance to do so. Pretty soon, it seemed likely that either the Chief could cave and she would get her story, or he'd snap and throw her out the nearest window. But, then again, Lois often seemed to have that effect on people.

"Not yet," she said with a stubborn tilt of her chin. "But he will."

For a moment, Jimmy looked like a mouse confronted with a lion as he suggested tentatively, "You know, he does actually have a point. It seems like it might be dangerous…"

"It's a story, Jimmy," she said, cutting him off. "And, what's more important, it's a story worth telling. In my book, that means it's worth going out there to get it, no matter how dangerous it is!" Pressing her lips tightly together, she finished, "It's my story, and I'm _going_ to get it. No matter what."

With a resigned sigh, her companion shifted the camera slung around his neck and said in a voice made even more morose by the levity he tried to inject into his tone, "Okay, well…if you need a cameraman in the meantime, don't forget your trusty sidekick!"

"First name on my speed dial," she promised him as she brushed past him and made her way to the coffee maker. If she was going to get through the day, it appeared that she would definitely need to restock her energy reserves.

Once in the kitchenette area, however, she saw that someone had taken the last of the coffee and failed to put on a new pot. Grumbling darkly under her breath, she glanced around desperately for the necessary supplies; she swore they must have learned to grow legs and walk away of their own volition, because they never seemed to be in the same place twice.

"C'mon," she moaned as her initial search proved to be fruitless. The coffee grounds weren't on top of the fridge, on the shelves above the sink, or in the freezer – all places she'd found them before. With a sigh, she glared at the cabinet underneath the sink and groaned. Of course, there was no logical reason why the object of her search would be down there, so there was actually a pretty good chance that this is exactly where it would be.

Kneeling gingerly on the ground, Lois pulled open the cabinet door and stuck her head inside, squinting into the darkness. After disturbing three spiders, what looked suspiciously like a mouse, and about a year's worth of dust, she pulled her head back with a scowl. She definitely never wanted to do that again, no matter how desperate for coffee she was.

With a sigh, she sat back on her heels and looked around. There was really only one other place the coffee grounds might be hiding – the cabinet above the refrigerator. The problem was, as tall as Lois was, she still wasn't sure she was tall enough to reach.

Still, the coffee maker was calling to her, and she could feel a crash looming in her near future if she didn't get some caffeine in her immediately. If the nap she'd taken at her desk hadn't been proof enough of that, the fact that it actually took her a couple of minutes to work her way to her feet would have.

Stretching onto her tiptoes, she pulled the cabinet door open, and there it was. Like a mirage arising in the middle of the desert, the Folgers crystals canister was gleaming in the bright florescent light from its position on the top shelf. She might have actually let out a tiny sob of joy as she reached for it, and that was when she heard the voice behind her.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm looking for someone." It was him, she realized as she froze in place. For a moment, she actually thought sleep deprivation had caused her to hallucinate, because there was no way that, after all her months of searching, Clark was standing right behind her. As if she thought there was a good chance she'd shatter into a million pieces of "crazy" if she moved too fast, Lois turned her head to look at the man behind her.

God, it really _was_ him. The sight of him caught her like a punch to the stomach, stealing her breath, and she began to topple. In a second, he was there, his hands wrapped around her waist as he braced her, catching her before she fell. "L-Lois?" he asked, his voice sounding almost hollow with shock as his gaze swept her face, taking in her features.

"Clark?" she murmured in a similar tone, her hands braced on his shoulders as she stared up at him. After all the time she'd spent searching for him, it was hard to believe that he was actually there in front of her; it felt like a dream. She would have pinched herself, but that would have required letting go of him in order to do so, and she couldn't do that just yet. Instead, she let her fingers tighten on his shoulders as she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent that had haunted her from the day he'd disappeared without a word.

It was him; it was really him. Her Clark.

Her eyes sprang open again and she stared at him like she was afraid he'd disappear if she took her eyes off him ever again. She tried to untangle her tongue, find the correct words to say, but her brain seemed to be stuck in neutral. So many emotions were roiling around inside her, she honestly had no idea how to react. In the silence, Clark murmured softly, "Your hair is darker. I didn't recognize…you look…good. You look really, really good."

His compliment had an edge of nervousness to it, as though he either hadn't been entirely certain of what he wanted to say or he was afraid of how she'd take any such sentiment coming from him. Perhaps he had good reason to be cautious; she didn't know how to take his presence there in the small kitchenette, let alone the compliment he'd bestowed upon her.

Though she wasn't entirely certain exactly how to feel about his sudden reappearance, his words did seem to release her from whatever spell she'd been under. Whatever this was, it wasn't a dream, and though there were a thousand questions to be asked and maybe a million explanations to be given, for the moment, the only thing that mattered was that he was there, right in front of her, safe and sound.

"Oh, god, Clark!" she cried more loudly as the reality of his presence sunk in and she threw her arms around his neck, hurtling her body against his with enough force that he was knocked back a step. "I don't understand! What are you doing here? Don't you know I've been worried sick about you?"

His arms went around her waist, pulling her tight against him. For a long moment, all she heard was the sound of his breath, heavy in her ear, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "I'm sorry," he murmured, ducking his head against the curve of her neck. "I never meant to be gone for so long."

"But where _were_ you?" she demanded, pulling back just far enough to look into his face. She tried to meet his eyes, but his gaze had lowered and she couldn't get a good look at their expression.

"I…It's a long story," he mumbled lamely.

"Okay," she said, unperturbed. "Well, it's almost lunch time now. What do you say I kick off early and we can go find some place private to talk?"

"No, I…I mean, I'd love for the two of us to have lunch together, but I'm not sure I…" he stuttered, and that was when the realization hit. He had no intention of telling her. Whatever it was he'd been doing for the last couple of months, wherever he had been while she'd been staying in his house and worrying herself sick over him…he wasn't going to tell her.

Like lead weights, her hands slipped off his shoulders to fall to her side as she stepped out of his arms. Then, speaking very deliberately, she chose her words carefully. "Clark, I don't understand," she said firmly. "You've been gone for three months now. _Three months_ without a phone call or an e-mail or even a message via carrier pigeon to let me know that you were okay! And now you're…you just show up here out of the blue and you…you won't tell me anything about where you've been or what you've been doing? Is there _anything _you can tell me?"

Sliding a hand through the hair that had actually been meticulously combed into place a moment before, Clark looked at her with an unreadable expression. "It's not that easy," he tried to explain. Though Lois waited for him to elaborate, he didn't take the opportunity to do so.

The silence that fell between them was heavy with things not said, and finally the sound of her heavy sigh filled the air. "Clark, I know that you've been going through a lot lately. With everything that's happened…Chloe leaving, Lana…well, I mean, what I'm trying to say is that I know you've been through a lot. I understood…I _understand_…why you felt you had to go, I really do. It hurt that you didn't say goodbye, but I know how it is when the world piles up on you sometimes; you feel trapped, and you just have to find your way out before everything gets to be too much."

He was looking steadily at her, shadows filling his eyes and the silence, but though the gulf between them stretched further still, he didn't make a move to bridge the gap. So, Lois did what she always did. She charged straight ahead and hoped that sheer luck would keep her from going one step too far. In her life, she'd had plenty of opportunity to become accustomed to the feeling that came after she stepped off the cliff, when she was freefalling through the air. It was the landings that she'd never learned to master. The moment when everyone left.

"Please," she whispered, her voice a raw plea as she looked into his eyes. Stepping forward, she gripped the front of his shirt in her hands, rumpling the fabric in the force of her grip. "Please. I don't…I'm not asking you to…I don't need you to tell me everything, Clark. I don't need your secrets. I just need…I need _something_. I just need…I need to know that all this time, you haven't…that I wasn't just…Please, Clark. I don't need to know everything, but I…I need to _know_." She needed to know that she hadn't been alone. She needed to know that, though he'd been gone, he hadn't left her. Of course, he hadn't asked her to wait for him, and he would have hated to know she'd been so worried about him. But she had, and she needed to know that it _mattered_, that as she'd been sitting at home doing her best to find him, he hadn't…forgotten her.

"Lois," he said in a voice so soft she could barely hear him. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you, but I _can't_. Not now. Not just yet."

She swallowed heavily. "Don't you trust me?" she whispered.

He looked tortured. The shadows in his eyes deepened, but though he cried, "I trust you!" he didn't say any more. He didn't tell her how much he'd missed her. He didn't tell her how much he'd wanted to call her, how much he'd wished he could come home. He didn't tell her that he'd thought of her all the time. He didn't tell her that, though he'd been gone, he'd never meant to leave her.

Maybe he meant to say all these things, but he didn't say a word.

In the wake of the silence that fell between them, Lois let him go and backed away once more. "I see," she said flatly, her jaw clenching.

Clark must have realized she was slipping through his fingers, because he moved towards her, halting only when she took another step away. His voice was faintly pleading as he said, "Please, I need you to understand…"

But there was no opportunity to tell her what he needed her to understand when a voice rang through the bullpen, catching their attention. "Could I get everyone's attention?"

Lois was actually grateful to hear her Editor-in-Chief's voice because it gave her a chance to duck out of what had already been an excruciating conversation. She couldn't face this, not now.

Without a word, she scooted past the man who had just hurt her more than she would have thought possible, heading out of the kitchenette so she could see what was going on. Perry was standing in the middle of the bullpen, all eyes upon him. As silence fell in what was always such a bustling place, Lois glanced around at the faces turned towards the boss who was still relatively new to the group. There was expectation there, but also a certain measure of reserve. Everyone knew Perry White's pedigree wasn't entirely unblemished. He'd spent some time in tabloid journalism in recent years, and the so-called "respectable" journalists weren't quick to forget it. Lois sympathized; it certainly hadn't been easy for her to get the rest of the staff to take her seriously at first. It had helped that she hadn't given a damn whether or not they accepted her, which oddly seemed to make them like her more. Since Perry seemed to share her attitude, she figured it wouldn't take long at all for him to find his place in this group.

As the room had quieted down, Perry continued with his announcement. "I wanted you all to know that we have a new reporter on staff. Where is he?" Lois watched his eyes scan the room, and when they finally seemed to stop on her, her stomach plummeted. "Clark Kent. He'll be working with Lois from now on, and I'm sure you'll all make him feel welcome. Clark, Jimmy will show you where the supply cabinet is; take anything you need to set up the desk across from Lois."

She didn't know which shocked her more – that Clark had just become the newest reporter under the Daily Planet's masthead or that he was apparently to be her partner as well. She didn't need a partner! "Wait a minute!" she cried as Perry turned and walked back towards his office. "Chief!"

Though she probably should have taken a moment to think about decorum, she bolted across the bullpen after him, almost knocking at least two of her coworkers over as she flew past. "Chief!" she yelled once more, and though only a deaf man would have missed the shrill sound of her cry, he didn't stop in his tracks. His ability to ignore her more fervent outcries was definitely something that was either going to endear the hell out of her or make her want to kill him. Maybe both.

She hit the door to his office at a dead run, finally skidding to a stop right in front of his desk. "Chief, you can't do this!" she blurted, placing her hands on her hips and glaring ferociously at him.

"Get a moment's peace in my office? No, apparently I can't," he answered, not even seeming the least bit taken aback by the force of her ire. "Is there something bothering you?"

Lois actually began to splutter. "Y-you…! Yes there's something bothering me! You can't do this! I don't need a partner!"

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes you do, Lois. Unless I've misunderstood the petition you've made to me every fifteen minutes for the past week, you want to go undercover for a story, and a partner is _exactly_ what you need to do it. Clark Kent, while a little rough around the edges, is perfect for the part."

"R-rough around the edges!" she repeated as her brain tried to process which to tackle first – her anger at having been saddled with a partner that she wasn't sure she wanted to be in the same room with at present, or her shock and joy at what seemed to be a green light on her story. "That's putting it a little nicely, don't you think?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clark scoot quietly through the door to stand in the corner in the back of the room, but she didn't address him. Neither did Perry as he said, "But if you're such a great reporter that you don't need a partner, than his lack of experience shouldn't be a problem. The two of you can investigate your story together and you can help him polish the article you write when this is all done. Right?"

"That's not the point," she snarled. "He could blow everything, and you know it!"

"He's exactly what you need," Perry countered flatly. "And _you_ know it. Incidentally, it's him or nothing. Unless you think you can pull this off with Olsen."

If anything, her glower intensified. Was he messing with her? Was that it? "Oh, come on! There have to be a dozen reporters here who would be qualified to work with me on this! And all of them would have more experience!"

"Do all of them look like they could hunt bears for breakfast with a flyswatter?" Perry asked idly. "Because, as I understand it, you may need some backup on this. This story is going to be dangerous, Lois; I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

"All the more reason to have someone else with more experience!" she tried one final time.

Perry sat back in his chair and regarded her steadily. "It's this or nothing, Lois. Take it or leave it. Of course, if you think you won't be able to pull it off, I can always assign someone else to the job…"

"Oh, no, I can do this," she said, tilting her jaw stubbornly. Though she was definitely angry at having been forced into a corner, she had to appreciate how neatly her new boss had outmaneuvered her. Not many people could pull such a thing off, and certainly not on such short acquaintance. Some day, she'd have to congratulate him on a game well played…but not until after she'd proven to him that she could get the story, no matter how green the rookie by her side.

Whirling, she turned the ferocity of her glare to Clark. "Well? You heard the man! Let's go!" she barked. Though he arched his eyebrows at her, Clark didn't protest as he followed her out the door and into the bullpen.

"Lois?" he began as she led the way to her desk. Though the crowd scattered as Lois approached, they fell in behind her to greet the newcomer, and she heard Clark mumble politely to them as he followed behind her. At her desk – well, their desk now, she corrected herself with a measure of irritation – she stopped and grabbed some things off her desk and whirled, thrusting them into his arms with perhaps a touch too much force. Making a tiny grunt of surprised, he asked mildly, "Where are we going?"

"Hm?" she murmured, grabbing her purse and bolting to the door. "What was that?"

"I asked where we're going!" he called a little louder to her.

She didn't even pause in her flight to the elevator. "Going? Try and catch up, Clark! We're going to get married!"

The doors in front of her parted with a ding as, behind her, Clark yelped, "_What?_"


	3. A Murder Investigation

**Part 3: A Murder Investigation**

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." The speaker smiled at the man and woman standing before him, but his smile faded abruptly when he saw the twin glares on their faces.

"Very funny, Jimmy," Lois huffed, rolling her eyes at his antics. "You got the rings, right?"

The cub photographer threw her a reassuring grin as he handed each of them a matching gold band. "Of course! Did you really think I wouldn't come through for you?"

She didn't comment, so Clark took the moment to speak up. "Lois, I really don't think this is a good idea," he said with a good deal of trepidation as he fidgeted with the ring in his hand. "What am I supposed to be doing, again?"

"Easy," Lois said as she slid her own ring on her finger and frowned down at it. "Pretending to be my husband, of course."

"And that's supposed to be easy?" he muttered. When she glowered up at him, he slipped his ring on his finger and cleared his throat. "Okay, so, at any point are you going to explain to me _why_ we have to pretend to be married?" She looked like she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to tell him, so he pressed, "We _are_ supposed to be a team on this, right? How am I supposed to help you out if I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be helping you do?"

Lois sighed. "Right. Okay, well…have a seat and I'll fill you in." She grabbed a file folder off the desk and gestured to the nearby sofa. They had returned at the Kent Farm, having finished their day at the Daily Planet, in order to more privately discuss the investigation that the newly-formed Lane-Kent team were about to conduct. Together, both members of that team walked over to the couch and sat, and though Jimmy accompanied them, he perched on the edge of a nearby chair instead. When everyone had settled, Clark met his partner's eyes and waited patiently for her to explain.

As she pulled open the file folder in front of her, Lois heaved a heavy sigh. "Okay, you're not going to like this…" Those words had never boded well for anyone, and Clark felt his spine stiffen in terror of its own volition. Before he could interject a well-deserved protest, she continued, pulling out some photographs and passing them over to him.

"Over the last two months," she explained, "there have been six unexplained murders in the area. Three couples, recently married, were found within a twelve mile radius. Though the order of the killings wasn't consistent – that is, in two of them, the wife was killed first but in the third, the ME figured that the husband had been the first to die – the time of death for each one of the couples was set at twenty-four hours apart."

She was right; he wasn't liking where this was going already. In a voice similar to that of a man facing the gallows, he said heavily, "Go on."

"The police don't have any suspects, and the cause of death varies a bit. The first one of each of the couples to die was shot. That's always consistent. Mrs. Andrews, the first victim, died of a gunshot wound to the left temple. Mrs. Keefe, the third victim technically but the first of the Keefes to die, was shot in the chest. That wasn't as clean of a kill; the ME figured she took about a half an hour to die after she'd been shot. The killer showed even less technique with Mr. Masterson, the fifth victim. He was shot twice. The first bullet entered low, through his stomach. Then the killer shot him again; the second shot was the fatal one."

Clark was beginning to feel a little nauseated, looking at the photographs, but he didn't tell her to stop. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and though he was going to do his best to keep her out of it, he knew it was something that had to be done. Whoever was killing these couples had to be stopped.

"You said both of the spouses were killed in each of these killings. What happened to the others?" he asked softly.

Lois grimaced, but she pulled out a few more photographs. "These are really hard to look at, so prepare yourself," she warned as she passed them over. Even with her warning, he was afraid he'd be sick as soon as he glanced down at them. To say they were horrific would be an understatement, and he felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. "Wh-where did you get these?" he asked as he sucked a few deep breaths in through his nose.

"I made a friend at the police department," she explained gently. Someone who didn't know her as well as he did might have thought that a woman with the kind of no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners attitude that Lois tended to convey would be unsympathetic in the face of her partner's difficulty in handling the sight before him. Because Clark knew her as he did, he was unsurprised, though he was touched by her compassion. True, she could be as hard as nails, but, deep down, she could also be very soft-hearted.

If only he could explain to her where he had been for the last few months, he thought morosely before dragging his thoughts back to the people in the photographs in his hands. "What happened to them?"

"It's not pretty," she admitted. "Mr. Andrews probably died the fastest; his throat was slit, severing the…well, I'll spare you the details. Anyway, he died of arterial bleeding, so it probably didn't take more than a couple of minutes. Mr. Keefe…the killer took a bit longer with him. There were defensive wounds on his hands and arms. The knuckles on his right hand were split; the ME figures he fought back and might have gotten a punch or two in on his attacker."

"And the cause of death?" Clark asked, though the cause of death was actually pretty obvious in the photograph before him.

"Multiple stab wounds," she admitted sadly. "Fourteen in all. Though it's hard to say for sure, the ME thinks the killer stabbed him in a rage. The wound on…on Mr. Andrews had been pretty clean. Almost professional. They don't think the killer has a medical background, but they do think he probably has done some hunting in his life. Mr. Keefe…well, the killer was sloppier with him. So far, the working theory is that the killer probably got angry when Keefe got a couple of licks in, took out his rage on his victim."

This was really getting more nauseating by the moment. "And the last victim? Mrs. Masterson?" As he asked the question, he flipped to the photograph of her body. He only glanced at it for a second before he was forced to tear his gaze away, retching at the sight. Very gently, Lois reached over and took the pictures from him, sliding them back into their folder. He noticed that she, too, was very careful not to look at the photograph as she did so.

"Her killing was the most brutal thus far. Again, she died of multiple stab wounds, but the killer…I'll spare you the details, but the killer took his time with her." When Clark looked at her in confusion, she said gently, "He toyed with her before he killed her."

"And you want us to go undercover to see if we can draw the killer out and stop him before he kills again." It wasn't anything approaching a question, but she nodded anyway. "Lois, are you out of your _mind_?"

Jumping to her feet, she began to pace back and forth. "Stop there, Clark! I know what you're going to say! I'm not suicidal, you know! I know what I'm doing, and I know how dangerous it is! But don't you see? This killer has to be stopped, the cops don't seem to be getting any strong leads on him, and I think…"

"I agree that the killer has to be stopped," Clark cut in, jumping to his feet to face her. "But that doesn't mean you have to risk your life to do it!"

Lois sighed. "I understand how scared you must be, but we'll be doing this together, and I really do know what I'm doing! I have a plan! So you don't have to worry that anything's going to happen to you, because I…"

"Happen to me?" he cut in again, his voice raised in astonishment. "You think I'm scared about what will happen to me? It's you I'm worried about, Lois! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Don't you think you're being a little overdramatic?" she demanded irritably. "I'm hardly about to rush headlong into danger."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared evenly at her. "Because you've been so good at staying out of it in the past," he said pointedly.

Lois flushed. "That's unfair!" she cried heatedly. "Just because danger has a way of finding me doesn't mean I go out looking for it!"

"Only now you do!" he replied in a raised voice. "You're going out looking for it _right now_! Isn't that what this whole conversation is about? You want to go use the two of us as bait to catch a killer? Your desire to catch a murder is admirable, but it's also reckless! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"You don't think I can take care of myself, is that it?" she yelled into his face. Clark didn't know when it had happened, but she was standing toe-to-toe with him as she glowered up into his face.

"No, it isn't about that," he tried to say in a more even tone, but she wasn't letting him inject any sanity into this argument.

"Yes, you do! You think I can't take care of myself! Well, let me tell you, mister! I managed to take care of myself just fine in the months you've been away! So don't you get it into your thick skull that I've been sitting around waiting for my big strong _man_ to come save me, because, let me tell you, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself! I've done it for years! I did it before I met you; I'll do it again the next time you choose to leave me behind!"

A heavy silence fell between them at her words. Out of the corner of his eye, Clark could see Jimmy trying to look at anything but the two people engaged in an argument, but Clark couldn't take his eyes off the woman standing before him. She was beautiful, with the color high on her cheeks and her eyes flashing angrily. He could see the hurt lurking behind the anger as well, however, and it broke his heart.

"Lois," he said softly, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotion. "I didn't leave you behind. I-I…" But he couldn't do it. He couldn't explain, and so he stammered himself into silence that was all the worse for the explanation that should have filled it.

"Forget about it," she said abruptly with a wave of her hand. "Forget I said anything. You don't need to tell me where you were; you don't owe me anything. It's just…I need to do this. I need to get this story, and I can't do it on my own. I need you, Clark."

"But I can't protect you," he said, the words never more true than they were at that moment.

"You don't need to protect me," she shot back a little irritably. "You just need to trust me. Do you, Clark? Do you trust me?"

He let a short silence fall between them as he stared intently into her eyes. He couldn't explain everything to her just yet, but he needed her to feel the full force of his words, to know they were true. "I trust you, Lois." And he did. With his life. With his heart. With everything that he was, everything he had once been, and everything he had yet to be. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly, terrified about what the answer would be.

There was indecision there, pain, and something else. The something else gave him hope, but she took it away again as she said, "I trust you with my life." And though there was much still to be said between them, he heard and understood the words not spoken. She trusted him with her life, but not her heart. At least, not yet.

From Clark's left, he heard Jimmy clear his throat nervously. When two heads turned in his direction, the younger man said with feigned humor, "You sure you guys aren't married for real? You kinda sound like a married couple when you fight."

"Ha, ha," Lois said sarcastically, but Clark appreciated the interruption as it shattered whatever had been building between himself and Lois. Whatever that had been, it needed to be addressed, but not yet.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, letting whatever revelations might have just been made go without comment. When Lois looked at him with a slight frown, he pressed, "You said you had a plan, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Well, see, the killer…he seems to work on a pretty strict schedule. Like I said, there have been a total of six killings over the last two months. That's two every two weeks, like clockwork. Whoever this killer is, he's well organized. He knows what he's doing, given the lack of much forensic evidence recovered thus far. And he's not going to stop."

Clark processed these words. "It doesn't make sense," he finally muttered to himself.

"What doesn't?" Lois pressed, and he looked up at her.

"It's just…everything you say makes sense, but the details…You say the killer's organized. That he knows what he's doing. And earlier, you said that you think this guy has hunting experience. Right?" he asked as he began to unconsciously mirror his partner's habits and paced back and forth in front of the sofa.

"Right," she agreed, and though something in her expression led him to believe that she followed his thought process and knew where it was going, she didn't stop him or interrupt to fill in the blanks for him. Instead, she let him follow the conclusion to its logical end on his own.

"But that doesn't make _sense_!" he cried, taking her up on her unspoken offer. "If he's an experienced hunter, why did it take two shots to kill Mr. Masterson? Is he doing it in a sadistic desire to draw everything out?"

Lois frowned. "It could be. Or maybe it's something else. The ME said there was a lot of passion behind Mr. Keefe's murder. Maybe the killer there was something about the couples themselves, not the method of murder."

Clark frowned. "So maybe with the Keefes and Mastersons, the murders were personal, but the Andrews were just…practice?" He spat the word out in great distaste, and he could see the emotion mirrored on his partner's face. "I suppose that's possible."

He fell silent as he paced back and forth a couple more times, trying to put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. There was still something that didn't quite fit. "Why the two different weapons?" he asked abruptly. "Why is he shooting one and stabbing the other? Why not just shoot both, or stab both if that's what he wants to do?" It was hard for him to think about the situation this clinically, but he forced himself to do it because it needed to be done.

"I thought about that," Lois interjected. "Maybe he's toying with them, playing some kind of sick game."

"Or he could be sending a message," Clark countered.

"He could be," she agreed.

"So what's your plan to catch him?" he asked, bringing the conversation back to the investigation. Though a sinking feeling in his stomach told him that he knew exactly what her grand plan was, he was desperately hoping that he would find himself surprised by his answer.

It wasn't encouraging to see her face light up suddenly. Though the animation in her features made her even lovelier than she'd been a moment before, it didn't bode well for Clark's peace of mind. "Well," she said, drawing out the word as she returned to her spot on the couch and gestured for Clark to join her. "Here's what I was thinking. The police have been trying to find a connection between the three couples and haven't had a lot of luck. They worked in different companies, shopped in different stores, everything. The only one of them who was even from Metropolis was Mrs. Keefe! There was, in fact, only one thing the police could find in common between the three different couples: they each stayed at this spa." As she spoke, she pulled another picture out of her folder and handed it to Clark.

It was clearly a promotional image of a large, sprawling estate. A regal structure to rose invitingly over the treetops in the center of the photograph, and there was something inviting about its white façade, the foliage surrounding the structure, and a clear blue pool tucked away to the side. The Metropolis skyline in the background provided a perfect counterpoint – everything about this picture screamed, "Need to get away from the big city for a few days? Come here to relax and have all your troubles massaged away!"

"Wow," he said. Even he wasn't immune to such temptation, though knowing that the beautiful building in the photograph might be connected to six murders did certainly take a little something away from the appeal.

"Yeah, it looks pretty nice," she said as she tilted her head to look at it with him. "I mean, if you ignore the part where six people might have been killed because they stayed there." Clark supposed it should have been disconcerting that his thoughts and hers were so similar, but he found himself actually somewhat comforted by the continual reminders of how close they were.

"There is that," he agreed. "So I take it your big plan is for the two of us to check in here as a newlywed couple and see what happens next?" His voice conveyed every ounce of skepticism he felt; it seemed like a pretty flimsy plan.

Lois must have agreed, because she scowled. "Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound that great. But, trust me, this is going to work. At least, it will if you think you can manage one little thing for me. You need to be able to pretend like you're absolutely crazy about me. I had Jimmy ask around a bit when I first stumbled onto this lead and was thought I might want to go undercover. According to him, the three couples who were killed were described as being crazy about each other."

"Yeah, that's right," Jimmy spoke up eagerly. "That's what everyone said about them; it was really the one thing everyone remembered the most about them. They didn't really seem to have a lot else in common, except that those three couples were described as being just nuts about each other."

Lois nodded in agreement, but she didn't take her eyes off Clark. "So, do you think you can pull it off?"

Was she kidding? Did he think he could pull it off? If only she had the first clue of how he felt about her, or the fact that a day hadn't gone by in the past three months that he hadn't thought about her and wished he could be home. When he woke up every morning, it had been hard to pull himself out of the dream he'd had every night, of Lois in her silly bunny slippers and cat pajamas, her hair pulled up into a messy pony tail, grinning at him as she curled up next to him on the couch. And every night he went to bed, he drifted off to sleep with the memory of how tight she'd held him in her arms after he and Lana had finally taken that last final step and broken up for good.

He'd carried her with him every one of the unending days that had passed since he'd last seen her at the Kent Farm, before he'd gone off to confront Lex one final time. And now she was asking if he could pull off being crazy about her? The bigger trick would be not accidentally revealing to _her_ how he felt about her, not convincing the rest of the world of the depth of his feelings. It was, in fact, something of a surprise that Lois didn't know how he felt about her already; they'd certainly been dancing around their feelings for each other long enough.

"I…uh…I think I can manage it," he said wryly.

"Good," she said briskly, apparently not picking up on his private thoughts. Instead, she turned to address the other man in the room. "Jimmy, Clark and I are going to check in over there tonight. I'm sorry you can't come along with your camera, but it would look really strange if we had decided to take a third person along on our honeymoon."

"I understand," Jimmy replied, though he sounded disappointed nonetheless.

With a sympathetic look, Lois said, "But do keep your camera ready, because as soon as it looks like we're going to be drawing out our guy, I want you there, ready to take a photo of it. Okay?" Jimmy nodded with a smile, seeming to be a little reassured. "Also, there are a couple of things I need you to take care of while Clark and I are playing the part of the happy newlyweds. You need to keep on top of my source at the police department, and let me know the minute that anything happens or they find the smallest clue, okay? And if you can, keep looking into the victims' backgrounds, see if anything comes up. If you find anything, anything at all, you can reach me by my cell. Got that?"

"I got it," Jimmy readily agreed as he jumped to his feet and headed to the door. "I'd better get on it. You sure you two don't need anything?"

"No," she said firmly. "I think we're good. But thanks, Jimmy." After exchanging goodbyes, the younger man left, leaving Lois and Clark completely alone.

As silence fell between them once more, Lois turned slowly to look at him. "So," she began, but she didn't seem to know how to finish the thought because she didn't say anything further.

"So," he parroted, sharing in her discomfort. "Ah…so," he tried again. "Where should we start?"


	4. Just Married

**Part 4: Just Married**

They started by concocting a back story – just ironing out a few details on how they had supposedly met, how long it had taken for them to fall in love, and where they had gotten married. As they'd decided to stick to the truth as close as possible so that they could better keep their stories straight, it didn't seem like it would be hard to remember it all. In fact, the only real change Clark had to remember was that he and Lois had apparently run away together the night before and eloped.

And now he and Lois were standing in the reception area of the very lavish spa, trying to convince the receptionist that every word of their story was true. If the look on her face was any indication, they were doing an admirable job; she kept exchanging secretive smiles with Lois and throwing very significant glances at Clark.

Of course, if Clark had to say so himself, he thought Lois was doing a pretty damn good job of pretending to love him – no small feat for her since he knew that her hurt over the way he'd disappeared on her for several months had not gone away. Still, she didn't so much as hesitate as she scooted closer to him, throwing her arm around his back so she could tuck her body against his side. When she threw her head back and looked up into his face, her eyes conveyed a promise he wished were real, and her mouth presented a temptation he couldn't long ignore. Thankfully, it didn't take too long to check in, and then a bellhop appeared by their side as if summoned by magic.

"Peter here will show you both to your room," the receptionist said. "We hope you enjoy your stay, and if there's anything you need, let us know."

"Thank you," Lois said to the receptionist, though she didn't take her eyes off Clark as she did so.

"Ah," Clark said abruptly, figuring it was high time for him to pull his own weight in this charade. "Could you have someone send up a bottle of champagne and two glasses?" Lois looked surprised, so he bent his face close to hers and said softly, "I want to toast to my beautiful wife."

Lois laughed in surprise, though there was a gleam of appreciation in her eyes. With a small smile, the receptionist nodded. "I'll send someone right up."

"Thank you," he said as he glanced down at Lois again.

"C'mon, Tiger," she cooed in a sultry voice and a glance that made him really wish this wasn't all just an act. "You'd hate for the champagne to beat us to our room, wouldn't you?"

Caught up in the moment, Clark bent to brush a kiss across her lips, but at the last moment, she turned her face away and he hit her cheek instead. Her reaction took him by surprise, but, luckily, when he glanced around, he saw that nobody had seen the way she'd avoided his kiss. It was fortunate, but he made a mental note to bring that up with her later. They could hardly pretend to be deeply in love with each other if she shied away from his kiss.

"Of course not, pumpkin," he said, choosing a nickname he knew would annoy her. Sure enough, she glared at him but she couldn't contradict him in public. There were very likely going to be a few perks to this undercover gig that he hadn't even thought about yet.

Together, they followed the bellhop upstairs, but when they reached their hotel room door, Clark put a hand on Lois's arm to stop her from crossing the threshold. "Just a minute," he said, and the bellhop chuckled and stepped back, clearly anticipating what Clark was about to do.

Lois, however, didn't seem to have caught on just yet. "Why? Wha-aaaaah!" she shrieked as he scooped her into his arms. "What are you doing?" she squeaked in dismay as she clutched him.

"It's tradition!" he responded with a smile. "I'm carrying the bride over the threshold!"

"You're going to drop me!" she cried as he scooted through the doorway with her in his arms.

"Don't be sill-oop!" Perhaps he'd spoken too soon. As he carried her into the room, he tripped over the edge of the carpet and staggered forward, almost dropping her. With her shriek of mixed surprise and laughter, he managed to keep from dropping her as he tried to regain his balance. In the end, though, it was very fortunate that the big plushy couch was located just where it was, as Clark ended up toppling over onto it, with Lois still in his arms.

The two of them were howling with laughter as he held her trapped beneath his body. "Ah…s-sorry about that," he finally managed.

It took her another moment to get a hold of herself. "No problem, Sm…" she let out a half-cough as her eyes drifted past his shoulder to the bellhop, still in the room. "Uh…Smootchie," she finished lamely, and her face contorted for a split second into an agonized mask of _where the hell did that come from?_ Recovering quickly, she teased him with a grin, "I love my big, clumsy husband."

"And I love my squirmy, balance-killing wife," he teased in return as he lifted his weight off of her and turned to the bellhop. He didn't really have to feign embarrassment as he said, "Ah…sorry to keep you waiting. Let me give you your tip."

"No problem, sir," the bellhop said indulgently though he was blushing a little. Thanking Clark graciously for the tip, he wished them both a good stay and left.

As soon as the door closed silently behind the bellhop, Lois jumped to her feet and darted towards her bag. Pulling out her files, she asked, "You ready to get started?" she asked as she rose to her feet and glanced through the stack in her hands as if checking to make sure she had everything.

"Absolutely," he said as he stepped closer to her. "Just one little thing."

Before she could protest, he framed her face in his hands and leaned down, capturing her lips with his own. Though she tried to pull away, he didn't let her, coaxing her with every brush of his mouth to relax and open up to him. It was only once she'd melted into his arms that he relented and took a step back, though it took every bit of strength of will he had to do so.

"Wh-what was that for?" she finally asked as she stared at him, lifting one hand to her mouth.

"We're pretending to be a couple," he explained gently. "What's more, we have to pretend to be completely infatuated with each other. That means you have to get used to kissing me; you can't just pull away every time I lean down to kiss you. You gonna be okay with that?"

He held his breath as he waited for her answer, desperately hoping she didn't call the whole thing off right now – not that he really thought she would, of course. She was too stubborn for that. But he honestly thought his heart might break if she made it clear that she was fine with pretending like she cared about him as long as she didn't have to actually kiss him.

Lois didn't help matters. Instead, she stared at him in silence for a few moments. Finally, she said softly, "Y-yeah. I'm okay with that. I guess."

Then, before the moment could grow any more tense or uncomfortable, she cleared her throat and strode toward him. "Here," she said brusquely. "We should…we shouldn't waste any time. Let's get started."

As she handed him the file, her hand trembled a little bit, causing the edge of the folder to slide along the ridge of his thumb. Sucking in a startled breath, he yanked his hand back, staring in shock at the blood that was beginning to swell through the cut.

"You okay?" Lois asked, noticing the cut. "Oh, geez. I'm sorry about that, Clark," she said contritely. "I didn't mean to give you a papercut. It doesn't look too bad, though. Just stick it in your mouth and I'm sure it'll be fine in a minute or two." Doing as she directed, Clark struggled to suppress the agonized moan that rose to his lips at the reality of his situation, and his eyes squeezed shut at the thought.

He couldn't imagine a worse situation if he tried. Lois had asked him to accompany her as she put her life (and admittedly his) in peril, and he knew – he _knew_ – he wouldn't be able to rescue her if something went wrong. And something _always _went wrong when it came to Lois; it was one thing he knew he could absolutely depend on in life.

Beyond that, he also knew that she wanted an explanation for where he'd been for the last couple of months, but an explanation was the one thing he simply couldn't give. Even if he had a memory of everything that had happened since he'd left her behind that day in Smallville (and that was a big if, as he certainly didn't), he couldn't begin to explain to her why it had taken him so long to get home.

Even if he could explain to her how he'd ended up on the other side of the world – which he couldn't, as even he didn't remember – how could he possibly explain to her that everything had happened because of the powers he simply didn't seem to have any longer? If he told her he'd once had super strength, she'd want him to prove it. Of course she would; that was simply the type of person Lois was. And when he couldn't prove it, she'd shake her head and give him a sympathetic look that told him she thought he'd had one too many blows to the head, and that would be that.

Without his powers, without any idea of what really had happened to him, there was no way he could answer all the questions he knew Lois wanted to ask. And, worse than all of that, there was no way he could be sure that he'd be able to keep her safe, if it came down to it.

What was he going to do?


	5. A Question of Trust

**Part 5: A Question of Trust**

The next two days passed entirely without incident. Lois and Clark spent as much of their day as possible out in public, trying to convince the world of how desperately crazy they were about each other. Luckily, they were staying at a spa with lavish facilities, so when the act got to be just a little too much to maintain, they had plenty of excuses to take a break from each other. Given how many times Lois had been forced to come up with cutesy nicknames for Clark (in part, to continue the charade but admittedly also just to see the look on his face when she did it), these breaks were well-deserved.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Clark's company, Lois reflected with a heavy sigh as she relaxed in the swirling water of the hot tub, letting it drain away all the stress of the last couple of days. Far from it, in fact. The problem was that she really liked being around Clark. When the two of them were together, it was hard, sometimes, to forget that they weren't back at the Kent Farm, teasing each other about some inane thing or other. She'd find herself getting lost in the familiar comfort of his company, and then… She'd remember.

How could he have stood there, she wondered, and refused to tell her a singe darn thing about where he'd been or what he'd been up to? He hadn't even told her why he'd gone, or why he'd decided to come back when he had! He was a frustrating fountain of absolutely no information, as of late. When she'd asked him about his newfound job at the Daily Planet, all he'd really said was that he'd met Perry a few years before and the man had offered him a chance at a job, if he ever wanted it. It had been an answer, but, as answers go, it had been something of an uninformative one.

She could feel the distance between them grow wider and wider, and though she hated it, she didn't know the first thing to do to change it. And the worst part was, she knew Clark hated it as much as she did! So why couldn't the two of them together do something about it?

Her satisfaction with her soak suddenly dimmed, Lois was reaching out to grab a fluffy white robe off a hook, ready to step out of the water, when two older women walked into the room. She had spoken with them before at various events she'd done with Clark over the previous two days, so she threw them a warm smile and sat back in the hot water, more than willing to spend some time in friendly company. At least she figured it was likely it would keep her mind off Clark for a while.

No such luck, as it turned out. As the two women lowered themselves into the water, one of them – Lois thought her name was Janine – said conspiratorially, "I'm surprised to see you so much around here, Lois. I thought with a man as handsome as yours, the two of you would be holed up all weekend! It is your honeymoon, right?"

While Lois pondered the potentially ramifications of drowning either Janine or possibly herself, she tried to hide her grimace and answered with a smile instead. "Oh, well…we have our moments, I confess, but we agreed before we booked our reservations here that we'd try to get out as much as possible. After all, we have the entire rest of our lives together, right?" Then, for good measure, she added, "Besides…if you want to know the truth, I kinda need the break every once and a while. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Clark…well, let's just say that he definitely knows how to wear a girl out!"

Her confession had the desired result, as the two women tittered. Then, Janine's friend Margaret said, "The two of you do make a beautiful couple, though. And the two of you clearly love each other very much, I can tell. Tell me…I hope you won't think this an impertinent question, but how did you know? That he was the man for you, I mean."

"He bought me bunny slippers," she answered without thinking about it. Then, realizing what she'd just confessed, her brain balked for a second. This hadn't been part of the cover story she and Clark had put together; she didn't know where it had come from. Still, she couldn't turn back now; Janine and Margaret were looking at her expectantly, obviously eager for more information.

Clearing her throat, Lois stammered, "I-I mean…" Well, it was always easiest to remember the truth, so she decided to go for it. "I had a fire. At my apartment, I mean. I lost everything; it was…well, it was terrible. Anyway, Clark was…he was there for me. He let me stay at his house while I was trying to get back on my feet, and he…he gave me bunny slippers. Stupid, right? But it was…that was the moment. I don't know that I wanted to admit it at the time, but that was the moment I realized I loved him, and…and that's it, I suppose."

She felt embarrassed, vulnerable in the wake of her confession, but her companions didn't seem to realize it. Instead, they chuckled in appreciation and then thankfully began to converse between themselves, leaving Lois to her own thoughts. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she murmured her apologies and stood to leave before the conversation could swing back in her direction. She wasn't trying to avoid the conversation, she told herself firmly. It was getting late, at any rate; it wouldn't be too long before she'd have to turn in if she intended to get up before noon the next day.

Gathering her close, she strolled back to the room she and Clark shared, wondering what he had been up to in the time she'd been in the hot tub and hating herself for caring. Though she kept trying to convince herself that she wasn't going to waste her time wondering about her partner, she realized how lost in her thoughts she was on just that topic when she careened blindly into one of the spa's security guards before she even realized he was there. Mumbling her apologies when he reached out to steady her, she mentally rolled her eyes at her behavior; if she was going to succeed at keeping distance between herself and Clark, she reminded herself, she would be better served to stop caring so much about where he was and what he was doing. Furthermore, it turned out that her absentmindedness was for nothing – he was patiently waiting for her in their room when she returned.

"Hey, Lois," he said brightly from his position on the couch. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," she said, feeling awkward, dressed as she was in nothing but her fluffy white robe. "You? What have you been up to?"

Standing, he moved around the couch to approach her. "I ended up getting dragged into a conversation about…you know what? You don't want to know. I'll spare you." Lois couldn't help the laugh that escaped her at his pained expression, and when he heard it, his face dissolved into a grin. "Anyway, I was thinking…maybe you and I could stay in tonight and catch a movie on TV or something. It's been a while since we've had a movie night, and I thought…"

Her smile fell from her face at his words. She couldn't help it; it wasn't that she didn't want to enjoy his company. It was just that everything was different now, and, try though she might, she couldn't quite forget that. "N-no, you know, I think I'm gonna turn in early. Maybe some other time, okay?"

Before he could answer, she scooted around him and walked towards the dresser so she could change into her nightclothes. However, Clark stopped her on her way to the bathroom, and she paused when he called out her name.

"Look, Lois," he said as she turned to face him with a sigh. "I know that things have been…weird since I came back. And I know you're mad at me because I can't tell you where I went, but I…"

"Stop right there," she said fiercely. "You don't understand a thing! I'm not mad at you because you won't tell me where you were! It's private; I get that!"

"But then…I don't understand," he said, and to his credit, he did sound incredibly confused. "If you're not demanding to know where I've been, then why…?"

His confusion made her even angrier, if that was possible. "Does it even _matter _to you that I missed you? That I was worried about you? Did you even think of me _once_ while you were gone? Did you even _care_ that I…"

"I cared!" he cried, cutting her off. "Of course I cared! It's just that I…Lois, I know I should have called you. I can't even imagine how worried you were about me! But I…there are things I can't explain. I wouldn't even know where to begin! But you have to trust me, Lois…

"Why, so you can leave me again?" she spat.

A tense silence fell between them, and then Clark said softly, "I would never leave you if I had the choice, Lois. You have to believe that. You have to know how much I care about you. Please; I need you to believe that…"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "That's the thing about trust, Clark. I did believe you when you told me that. The first time. But you _lied_ to me, Clark! You promised you'd never leave me behind and then you did! And that's fine, you know? We're friends; you don't owe me anything. But don't ask me to trust you again – don't ask me to _depend_ on you again or get used to having you around when I need you – after you've already shown that you're not going to follow through! And what's worse…? When you decide you have to go, you're not even going to bother to say goodbye!"

In an agonized voice, he pleaded, "I know I promised, and I messed up. But I…I just need a second chance! Please; I just need a second chance to show you that I…"

Lois bit her lip, her features contorting in pain that mirrored his. "I'm not good with second chances, Clark. I'm sorry…but, like I said, that's the thing about trust. I trusted you once; I'm not sure I can do it again. And even if I could, I can't force it. I can't make myself believe in you again, just because I want to."

"I thought you trusted me," he whispered. "Before…back at your apartment. You said you trusted me."

"I do trust you," she admitted. "I was telling the truth back then. I trust you to help me get this story. I trust you to help me find who killed all those people. And, like me, I trust you to do what you can to keep us alive while we do it."

"But that's it?" he asked, seeking an answer he clearly hadn't the nerve to ask before. At her nod, he continued, "And if it's not enough?"

Lois looked at him sadly. "It will have to be," she said softly. "For now, it'll have to be enough."

"But I…I can tell you…there are a lot of things I can't tell you right now, but I can tell you what I know, even if it won't make much sense!"

She was tempted, she couldn't deny it. That was the thing about Lois; her curiosity generally got the best of her. Perhaps, if she let him tell her what he wished to say, she would find out all those things she wanted to know – not only about where he'd been (and while she'd told him he didn't have to tell her, she'd be lying if she said there wasn't part of her that didn't wish he would) but that he _had_ thought of her. That he'd cared.

But she couldn't do it. If he was going to tell her, it couldn't be like this.

"No, Clark," she said softly. "Don't say a word. I don't want you to explain."

"But if it'll make you understand…!" he protested, the last, desperate protest of a man who faced losing everything important to him.

Wrapping her robe more tightly around herself, she stepped forward and met his eyes, trying to make him understand. "What happened to you is private; you've made that very clear. And that's okay; I'm not asking you to tell me everything."

"I know, but I want to tell you!" he claimed fiercely.

Making an impatient gesture with her hand, she demanded, "Why, Clark? Answer me that! For me or for you? Is it because you want to share that part of yourself with me, as private as it is? Or because you know I'm mad at you, you're scared of losing me, and it's the only way you can think of to fix things between us?" She could see the answer in his eyes without him saying a word, and at the sight of it, she gave a quick nod of the head. "I thought so."

It wasn't what she wanted, and, more, it wasn't what their friendship needed. Their friendship had to be, as it had always been, based on a sense of mutual trust for each other, not a sense of obligation. Whatever Clark chose to share with her, it had to be because he wanted to, because he wanted to share that part of himself with her. It couldn't be because he felt it was what was expected of him. He'd had plenty of friends in his life that had demanded more of him than he'd been prepared to give freely; she'd be damned if she would be one of them. Or that he would make her one of them.

"Goodnight, Clark," she said softly, and before he could protest any further, she turned to leave. Maybe one day, their friendship would get back to the place it had been, but that day wasn't going to be today.


	6. New Developments

**Part 6: New Developments**

When Lois awoke the next morning, it was to the extremely annoying sound of a ringing phone. Rolling over in bed, she felt around on her nightstand, searching blindly for her cell. "Mmylo?" she managed to grunt into the receiver once she'd finally located the offending object and placed it up to her ear.

"Hey, Lois. It's Jimmy," the familiar voice said into her earpiece. "Sorry to be calling you so early, but…"

"What do you want?" she grumbled irritably. Though he tried to explain, she spoke over him. "I mean, what could you _possibly_ want at this early hour, Jimmy? Is there anything in this world that could possibly be so important that you have to wake me up at…"

"They found two more bodies," he blurted, cutting her off. In a moment, Lois was wide awake, sitting straight up in bed, her brain clear as it processed this new information. "Another couple," he explained sadly, though she'd already pieced that together. "Preliminary report says they've probably been dead for at least forty-eight hours."

"Where?" she demanded. "Jimmy, start from the beginning and tell me everything."

As Jimmy filled her in, she saw Clark walk out of the bathroom. Somehow, she wasn't surprised that he was up at stupid o'clock in the morning, and while she would normally give him a hard time about it, for once, she was grateful. They had to get started on this right away. To his credit, he must have realized that something important was going on (whether due to the tone of her voice or the very fact that she was awake so early was anybody's guess) because he walked silently over to the couch he was using as a bed and perched on the edge, staring at her expectantly.

When she finally got off the phone, she turned to him and explained, "They found two more bodies." She then proceeded to fill him in with everything she knew.

The bodies had been found a couple of hours before in an area about five miles from where the second couple had been found. Jimmy had apparently enlisted Chloe's help in monitoring calls received at Metropolis Homicide, flagging any calls that seemed like they might have to do with the case Lois and Clark were working on. As usual, she'd come through.

Though the investigation was still in its early stages, there didn't seem to be a good deal of hope that the murderer had left many clues to his identity behind. There didn't seem to be much physical evidence at the scene, and while there might to be more to go on once the autopsy was finished, Lois wasn't holding her breath. The murderer, whoever he was, might have been brutal in the past, but he wasn't sloppy.

"But I don't understand," Clark said as she sketched out the details for him. "The police said he works on a schedule, right? But this doesn't fit his pattern."

"I know," Lois said grimly. "According to Jimmy, the police know that this murder breaks the pattern, and my source at the P.D. says that the murderer is speeding up his timetable. He's getting cocky, and if these two murders are any indication, we can't depend on that timetable my police buddy provided us to predict the next murder." Then, with a sigh, she said, "There's something else. These murders break the pattern in another way." At his curious look, she explained, "They haven't yet determined the time of death for either of the…for either of them, but if his M.O. stays the same, they figure Mr. Kern died first of a single gunshot wound to the head. The preliminary report indicates the bullet…he, uh…there's not really a good way to say this. The wound was…in the back of the…it appears that the murderer put the gun in Mr. Kern's mouth and pulled the trigger."

Gritting his teeth, Clark nodded. "And Mrs. Kern?"

Frowning in confusion, she explained, "Well, that's the strange thing. Her injuries apparently look like those they found on Mr. Andrews. Her throat was cut just like his."

"So he's moving up his timetable but regressing in his M.O.?" Clark asked, clearly no more able to make sense of this than Lois could. At her nod, he said, "But…it doesn't…"

"Make any sense?" she finished for him as she fished through the bag resting beside the bed and pulled out her files. Spreading her files out in front of her, she geared up to look through everything again, hoping that she'd see something this time that she'd missed the first hundred times she'd met this documents. Clark moved around so he could join her in her task on the bed as she said, "I know. Jimmy's waiting on the results of the autopsy – it's being rushed – and then he said he'll bring by a copy of everything they have so far."

"Okay, well, I guess I…" Clark began, but then he paused. Tilting his head to the side, he didn't move for a few seconds, and Lois threw him a curious look.

"Clark, what are you…?" she asked, but her question ended on a squeal when Clark reached out, wrapped his arms around her, and pushed her gently back onto the bed. Before she could demand an explanation, his body had come down upon hers and his mouth had captured her own.

He kissed her through her protests, though as she gave herself over to the kiss, she suspected she didn't object all that strenuously. In fact, though she could swear she heard a moan escape her, she didn't think it sounded exactly like a moan of protest; it was entirely possible that it sounded like a moan of pleasure.

She knew she shouldn't enjoy the kiss – she certainly shouldn't encourage it! But she found herself unable to pretend like she was even capable of pushing him away. Instead, murmuring his name against his mouth, Lois arched into him and reached up with one hand to spear her fingers through his hair as she deepened the kiss. It was at that moment that she heard an unfamiliar voice say hurriedly, "Oh! I-I'm sorry!"

Clark held her still when her body jerked against his, preventing her from sitting up. However, she did manage to crane her neck around to look over his shoulder, and when she saw the housekeeper hightailing it for the door, she realized why Clark had initiated the kiss to begin with. It was with a sting of disappointment (though she tried to deny such a feeling, reminding herself that, in all actuality, it was for the best) that Lois realized it had all been an act put on to continue their charade. By throwing her back on the bed, he'd managed to cover the majority of the papers she'd been looking at with their bodies, and the kiss had obviously been intended to further reinforce the picture of two people rather madly in love.

"S-sorry," he mumbled as he crawled off of her with great care. He was looking at her like he thought she might bite, but she couldn't blame him for his trepidation. In fact, she might have glowered at him if she had the presence of mind to do so, but unfortunately, her brain was still a little hazy after the kiss they'd shared. "I heard the housekeeper come down the hall, and I didn't want her to catch us."

Lois opened her mouth to demand a further explanation, but then she heard it too. The rooms were well-insulated, so the noise was very faint, but she heard the housekeeper continue her rounds, knocking on the next door down. How Lois had been completely oblivious to this before, she had no idea except to say that she'd been too wrapped up in thinking about her story. It was probably for the best that Clark had not been quite so distracted – and that he thought fast on his feet.

"It's okay," she replied with a sigh, wishing in retrospect that she'd known what he was doing. She might not have made the fact that she enjoyed the kiss _quite _so apparent. But he wasn't asking her about it, so she hoped, at least, that he assumed that she (like he) had simply been putting on an act. "Should we get back to it?"

He looked grateful at the offer, and the two of them turned their attention back to their story. In silence, they read and reread every piece of paper Lois had, going over all the details again. Occasionally one or the other of them would stop and bring up a possible lead that they thought they might have stumbled upon, but each time, they only realized that they were running into the same walls they had run into before.

Lois didn't know how much time had passed – maybe an hour – before a knock came at the door and Clark jumped to his feet to answer it. Jimmy was on the other side, a manila folder in his hand and a curious expression on his face.

"How's it going, guys?" the younger man asked as he walked into the room and placed the folder into Lois's waiting hands. When the two partners murmured similar general sounds that were meant to sound encouraging but might have missed the mark just a little, Jimmy grimaced and looked between them. "So, no real progress, huh?"

"Not really," Lois grumbled, still feeling out of sorts from the kiss, as well as from the lack of progress they'd been making. As she pulled out the envelope's contents and handed Clark several of the papers inside, she continued, "Unless you count having to kiss each other about a billion times and extol Clark's virtues to everything with a pulse progress, we haven't managed to get anywhere at all, so far as you'd think. How about on your end? Anything in here likely to be particularly helpful?"

Seeing the obvious negative in his expression, Lois sighed, but the disappointing news didn't stop her and Clark from poring over the documents anyway. Everything was pretty much as Jimmy had described over the phone, from the wounds on the bodies to the complete lack of physical evidence left at the scene.

"Sorry, guys," Jimmy explained, taking a seat on the couch. "Chloe's still keeping tabs on things, in case they find anything. She sends her best, by the way. Anyway, I do come with other bad news." He waited until his companions had glanced up at him again, and then he said, "It's Perry."

"Oh, man, you've gotta be kidding me!" Lois cried, jumping to her feet. "He's pulling the plug on this already!"

Jimmy rushed to explain. "It's expensive, Lois, and he said that if you guys aren't making any progress, he doesn't see…"

"But that's ridiculous!" she interjected. "It's only been a couple of days!"

Though he looked sympathetic, the bearer of bad news didn't budge. "It's what he said. He said he understands what you're trying to do, but if you're not having any luck, maybe you should consider trying something else."

"Did he say how long we had to pack it in, at least? Do we have to be back by five this afternoon or he'll have someone come over here and physically haul us back to the Planet?" Lois demanded in exasperation, placing her hands on her hips as she glowered at the man in front of her.

"You have until tomorrow," he said meekly. "That's what he said. And he also said if you haven't gotten anywhere by then, you're more than welcome to stay, but it'll be on your dime. And then he said that, considering the rent per night here is more than your weekly salaries combined, he…"

"I get the picture," she said quickly, cutting him off. Then she turned to look at Clark, who seemed to be silently processing this information. "So, what do you think?" she asked with a sigh.

Looking grimly at her, Clark said with resolve, "I think we have twenty-four hours to catch a killer."


	7. The Trouble with Trust

**Part 7: The Trouble with Trust**

There were some days that seemed to last forever. Every day that Lois had spent worrying about Clark, wondering where he'd been, had stretched by into an eternity. She could swear she'd lived a hundred thousand lifetimes and died at least as many deaths in that relatively brief time that Clark had been AWOL. Time had moved so achingly slowly, as if her pain and her fear had caused the world itself to still.

But there were other days, days that seemed to pass in a blink. Before it even seemed like one had been given the time to get out of bed in the morning, the day was well and truly gone. For Lois and Clark, the last twenty-four hours they had been granted to work on their story passed in just such a fashion. Almost before their time limit had begun, it seemed to draw to an end with absolutely nothing more to show for the time passed at the end than they'd had at the beginning.

"What are we going to do?" Lois asked in a low murmur as she and Clark walked back to their room. They'd spent the day in a last-ditch effort to draw the murderer out, to no avail. Anyone who would sit still long enough to be told as much had been informed of the newest Kents' plans to leave early the next day, to supposedly get a head-start on the more exotic portion of their honeymoon. The "newlyweds" had also spent so much time cuddling with each other in public that Lois thought it was entirely possible that Clark might have lost the use of his left arm by now, given how much time he'd had it wrapped around her body.

And yet, it didn't seem to have garnered any results. Nobody had paid them any particular attention – at least not to any noticeable degree. The murderer certainly hadn't come up to introduce himself; neither had he come up to inform them that they would be the next couple on his list.

"I don't know," he replied in a similar tone, sounding just as frustrated as her. Since they were about to pass through the lobby with the check in desk, he lowered his voice even further and glanced down at her as they walked side by side. "But don't beat yourself up about it, Lois. We've done everything we could. Sometimes things just don't work out the way we want them to." Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "We're not going to give up, okay? We'll just find another way."

She knew he was trying to be helpful so she tried not to grimace, but it was hard. She just wasn't very good with admitting defeat. It was just part of her personality; she didn't walk cautiously through life, she ran through it. If she was going to run into walls, she was going to run into them at full speed and damn the consequences. She'd never been good at admitting when she had to give up and start over, not even when she was a little girl, and though she may have gained age and experience over the course of her life, patience has never been any part of that package.

Of course, there wasn't much her stubbornness could get her in this situation. She couldn't force the murderer to reveal himself to her, as nice as it would be if she could. Clark was right; they'd done everything they could to try to draw their culprit out.

But had they really? The question caused her step to falter as she looked at her partner out of the corner of her eye. No, she couldn't fault him for any deficiency that might have been detected in their performance. He'd certainly thrown himself into the role to the point where Lois was sometimes left wondering if he remembered that it was all just an act. The problem…the problem lay in her.

It had been a great speech she'd given Clark – about trust and friendship and what it meant to be there for each other. But from her position on the pulpit, she'd overlooked one very critical fact that might have been her downfall.

Trust couldn't be forced, but it couldn't be faked either. All the playacting in the world couldn't convince the world that she really loved the man standing by her side if there was a part of her that was afraid to let him close to her, to let him in. Because that was the real trouble with trust – it was either there or it wasn't. It couldn't be qualified or equivocated. It just _was._ Or it wasn't. Trust wasn't like the heart; it wasn't blind. It was all-seeing, an unforgiving mistress. It was all or nothing; with trust, there was no middle ground.

Someone once said that to be trusted was a greater compliment than being loved, and so perhaps it came with a greater risk. Perhaps there was something ironic in the fact that this very idea scared Lois down to her core – the woman who had no qualms when it came to gambling with her life never took a chance with her heart if she could avoid it. She flung herself headlong into danger almost every day, but when it came to risking being hurt by the people she loved the most, she locked her feelings away behind an impenetrable wall.

It came down to belief. Faith in the man next to her. Either she had it or she didn't, but if she didn't have it now, she probably never would. A woman who hesitated to take a first chance on someone wasn't likely to be too quick about giving a second.

Clark trusted her, that she knew. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in a touch as simple as the way he cupped her palm in his own. He trusted her; the question was, did she trust him? She'd said she did, but did she really? Because if she didn't – if she couldn't – then it didn't matter how many times she kissed him in public or how many cute nicknames she made up for him. It would be clear to the world that, though she had him, he would never have her. And it would be clear to the two of them that, no matter how close they embraced in a charade for all the world to see, the distance between them would never be breached.

She had to trust him, but she had to trust herself first. Once, when she was little, her father had sat her on his knee and said something to her in grave tones that she'd never forgotten – maybe because it was one of the nicest things he'd ever said to her. _"You don't have to be better than anyone else in the world to make me happy, Little Lo. But you do need to realize that you're already better than you ever thought you could be."_

Stopping in her tracks, Lois turned to look up at the man beside her, waiting until he met her gaze with his own. She had to take that chance, to try to be better than she ever thought she could be. She had to decide; she either trusted Clark completely or she didn't trust him at all. Lois had always been, in all things, a very "all or nothing" kind of girl. If she couldn't have everything, she didn't want anything. And though Clark was not very much like her in a number of ways, in this, she suspected they had far more in common than either of them would ever admit. Clark gave all of himself when he gave some of himself; Lois would trust completely or not trust at all. If she didn't trust Clark completely, he would know it, and it would eat away at him slowly until there was nothing left.

When Clark turned and met her eyes, she could see the confusion on his face. Whatever he saw in her expression, he obviously didn't understand it but he didn't ask her to explain it, either. It was probably for the best, because she didn't know what she would say. There were a million things to be said, she supposed, but she couldn't think of the words to express a single one.

"Clark," she finally managed to choke, her throat thick. "I'm not…I don't know if I can…" Her courage faltering, she dropped her gaze from his, staring instead at his chin for a moment. It demanded far less of her than his eyes did. But Lois wasn't one to back down for long, and so, steeling herself, she pulled her gaze back up to his.

In a low voice, pitched so soft that the woman behind the desk couldn't hear, she spoke. Perhaps it wasn't the best time – and it almost certainly wasn't the best place – but she did it anyway.

"Promise me something," she implored softly, heedless of the world around them as she placed her hand on his chest, right above his heart. "A promise you know you can keep." Then she held her breath. It was a hell of a request she'd just made, she knew; there were almost no promises in life that one could guarantee that one could keep.

Clark could have asked her why she was making such an odd request at such an inexplicable moment, but he didn't. Instead, he stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he placed his hand gently over hers and spoke in a voice so soft that she had to strain to hear it, "I can't promise you that I'll never leave you, Lois." Though her heart broke a little, he didn't release her hand as he explained gently, "I wish I could, but that's one guarantee that nobody can ever make, and I can't see the future any better than anyone else. But I promise you…I _promise_ you, Lois, that even if I ever do leave you behind some day, I'll never want to. _Never_. I promise you that."

She believed him. Heaven help her, but she believed him. No, it was true that he couldn't promise never to leave her behind; she knew better than almost anyone how dangerous and unpredictable life could be. But when he told her that he would never _want_ to leave her behind, she believed him. She believed that, if he ever did leave her behind, it wouldn't be by choice. And, for the first time, she realized that she believed that he hadn't left her behind by choice this time, either.

It seemed so unfair somehow. Her greatest fear was being left behind, and though Clark couldn't promise that she would never have to face her greatest fear, he was able to promise that he would never make her face it if he had any other choice. She knew his greatest fear was being alone, and that was one promise she knew she should never make. It was, as he'd said, the one promise nobody could guarantee they could keep.

Except she wasn't just anyone else, and neither was he. She was Lois Lane, and he was her best friend. The best friend she'd ever had, and the best friend she ever wanted. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the shared memory of their past together reflected there. He was the first person she thought of in the morning and the last on her mind when she went to sleep at night. The bane of her existence, and the one person who had always managed to coax a laugh out of her, no matter what (even though the laugh was occasionally _at_ him and not _with _him). When her apartment had been burning around her and she thought her cousin was in danger, her thoughts had been on Chloe and Chloe alone, but when she dreamed she was being rescued, carried far away from the pain and fear, it was Clark that she had imagined holding her in his arms. And then he'd given her a stupid pair of bunny slippers and, in that small but poignant act, he'd stolen her heart away.

"I'll never leave you alone, Clark. I promise you," she told him fiercely, and she saw him wince in response.

"Lois," he mumbled in a pained voice. "You can't promise me that."

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "_I_ can." Because she was Lois Lane, and her self-confidence was such that she had no doubt that she could do anything, through sheer force of will alone if by no other means. With the beating of his heart pressing against her palm, she stared at him unflinchingly and vowed, "I know you think I can't keep this promise, Clark, but I can. _I can_. No matter what happens, you'll never be rid of me, Smallville. You may come to regret that someday, but it's true."

"You promise?" he teased her gently, his eyes shining.

She nodded. "I promise." If there was no other promise she'd ever manage to keep in her life, she vowed to herself that she would keep this one. She just knew it, somewhere deep inside.

Then, before she could think about what she was about to do, she rose up onto her toes and leaned into Clark, pressing her lips against his. The kiss wasn't the most passionate one she'd ever bestowed upon anyone – it wasn't even the most passionate one the two of them had ever shared. It was soft and sweet, a simple exchange of breath and touch and tenderness. A promise almost in and of itself.

They didn't touch but for their lips brushing against each other and the hand Clark had holding her palm against his heart. But somehow, there was more behind this kiss than there had ever been before. It may not have been the first kiss the two of them had ever shared, but it might as well have been. With that kiss, the charade they were putting on for the rest of the world was forgotten, and Lois Lane and Clark Kent kissed each other for the first time.

It was Clark who finally broke off, but there was something in his eyes when he lifted his head that she hadn't seen in a very long time. It reminded her of the looks he'd given her on that Valentine's Day not long before, when he'd taken her into his house and given her a home once more. But there was something different about it, as well.

She didn't have long to ponder that, however, as the world that had fallen away long enough to grant them their private interlude came rushing back with a vengeance. Though she'd been so caught up in the moment that she'd temporarily forgotten where the two of them were and what they were supposed to be doing, that awareness would no longer be denied, and she looked around to see that she and Clark were by no means alone. The receptionist behind the desk was trying to tactfully avert her gaze and doing a miserable job of succeeding; the maids poking their heads through the door behind her weren't even making a token effort to disguise their open interest.

"Ah…" Clark began, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "C-Could my wife and I get a bottle of champagne sent up to our room, please? We want to celebrate our last night here."

"Certainly, sir," the receptionist said with a smile that was just a little bit mischievous. "I'll have it sent up to your room right away."

"Thank you," Lois said with as much dignity as she could muster. "Er…Good night." Then, taking Clark by the hand, she led the way back to their hotel room, where she firmly resolved to hide under the bed until her embarrassment faded away. She would very likely be under there for several centuries.

Of course, when they actually did make their way back to their hotel room, Clark was very adamant that he would not allow her to become fossilized under the bed, though, looking at his face, she wasn't entirely certain this wasn't because he'd been planning to do the exact same thing himself and was disgruntled that she might have beaten him to the punch. The two of them did discover, however, that they couldn't quite manage to look each other in the eye just yet, and conversation in the wake of the kiss they'd just shared was both painful and vaguely terrifying. So, instead of tackling the enormous elephant in the room, the two of them began the task of packing up the bulk of their belongings. At least that way, they found they could avoid talking about the kiss that still lingered between them without making it obvious that they were avoiding the subject.

Lois had just finished putting the rest of her files in her briefcase and shoving the black case in the bureau to get it out of the way when a knock came at the door. "Room service!" an unfamiliar voice called through the solid wooden panel.

"Er…I'll get it," Clark said as he finished zipping his bags and scooted them aside. Walking over to the door, he opened it for the man holding a large tray carrying an ice bucket, a chilled bottle, and two glasses on the other side. "Thanks," he said as he stepped back. "Just put it anywhere, I guess."

In awkward silence, Clark and Lois stared at the intruder as he performed the task of opening the champagne bottle and pouring them each a glass. After Clark tipped him, the waiter left, closing the door behind him, but unfortunately, he didn't take the silence with him when he went.

Finally, Lois cleared her throat and reached for one of the glasses, almost sloshing its contents over the side with the abruptness of her gesture. "So," she said rather too brightly. "I guess this is our last night here, so we might as well enjoy it. Tomorrow, we'll get back to the _Planet_ and plan our next strategy. I'm not giving up on this story, you know."

"I didn't doubt it," her partner responded gravely as he picked up a glass in turn. "But, wait…you said 'we.' Does that mean that you're willing to keep working with me as your partner?"

"On this particular story, yes," she said firmly. "After that, Kent, you're on your own."

"If you say so, Lane," he said agreeably, though she had the sneaky suspicion she was just humoring her.

Since she didn't know for sure that he was doing such a thing, she could hardly call him on it. Instead, she raised her glass. "Er…you think we should toast or anything?" she asked in an awkward change of subject.

Though she hadn't quite managed to meet Clark's eyes since catching that almost-familiar expression in them in the lobby, she thought the tilt of his chin indicated that he was considering her suggestion. "How about to new partners?" he suggested with a hint of a grin.

"How about to _my_ first Pulitzer?" she suggested pointedly instead.

Yes, his lips were definitely grinning. Whether the smile had reached his eyes was anyone's guess, because Lois sure as hell wasn't about to look just yet. "How about to the Kent-Lane team grabbing their first byline?" he tossed back.

Lois rolled her eyes. "First of all, Kent, if we're going to be sharing a byline together, it'll be Lane-Kent. Seniority. Second of all, this is a _one time thing_, okay? So don't go thinking this is gonna stick, because I work alone. Got that?"

He didn't seem to be at all taken aback by the gauntlet she'd thrown down. Instead, he took a step towards her. "Okay, then, Lane," he said, his tone affable as they began to fall back into the habit of bantering the way they'd done for so long. "How about to…new beginnings?"

She snorted, but she didn't move away when he stepped forward once again. "How about to not sounding like a bad Hallmark card?" she suggested softly instead, finally raising her gaze to his.

He moved closer still, and though the self-preserving part of her knew she should scamper away, Lois was rooted to the spot by the warmth she saw in his gaze as he looked at her. "How about…to promises worth keeping?" he asked as he took one final step towards her until they were so close they were almost touching.

It was perfect – a perfect toast for the two of them – and Lois nodded her agreement. "To promises worth keeping," she echoed. Then, before she could do something completely inane and illogical with her mouth (like jump on Clark and crush it against his), she raised her glass to her lips and downed the liquid inside in one long gulp. Somehow, with Clark standing so near, she'd suddenly found herself rather parched. "More?" she croaked as she reached for the bottle.

"I'm not really much of a drinker," he said dubiously in reply, but she shook her head.

"Tonight you are, Smallville. It's a celebration! Time to get into the spirit of things!" Though he sighed in response, she waited until he downed half the glass and then topped it off for him.

Her task finished, she put the bottle aside and turned back to her bags. "Well, I should get back to packing or I'll have to get up early tomorrow to get on it and I think you and I both know that's just not going to happen."

"Oh, and here I was, thinking you were like a ray of sunshine first thing in the morning," he said dryly, prompting her to turn to look at him over her shoulder just so he could see her roll her eyes.

"Ha, ha," she replied sarcastically. "I'll say it again, Clarkie. You really need to work on that sense of humor of yo-ho?" Her teasing broke off abruptly from a sudden rush of lightheadedness as she bent to pick up her suitcase and almost fell over.

Straightening slowly, she placed the back of her hand against her forehead and took a few deep breaths, waiting for the odd sensation to pass. Instead, she felt her vision blur and her fingers go numb.

Suspecting something was truly wrong, Lois turned to Clark and stammered weakly, "Clark? I d-don't…" But Clark didn't seem to be feeling any better. In fact, she noticed he was looking a little pale and staring at his hands with a perplexed look on his face. Then the penny dropped. "C-Clark? I think we've been…"

"Drugged," he finished for her, his speech slurred. Staggering forward, he wrapped his arms around her. "W-we have to get out of h-here, Lois. Come on."

She tried to move to the door but her motions were sluggish; she just couldn't quite get her body to respond. "I don't think…" she began to say, but her tongue was too thick to really form the words and her knees buckled, no longer able to support her weight.

Clark tried to lift her, but he fell to his knees beside her instead. When she turned to look at him, she saw the same fear in his eyes as he had to see in hers. It would seem like their efforts might have paid off; they might have actually gotten the attention of the serial killer. Unfortunately, they soon would no longer be in a position to defend themselves.

"I've got you, Lois," he murmured as he bent over her, protecting her body with his own. She didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his promise, however, as she felt him slump on top of her as she lost consciousness.


	8. Hearts of Darkness

**Part 8: Hearts of Darkness**

When Lois awoke, she found herself tied to a chair, her hands bound behind her back. Glancing around, she could see that she was in a small room, its walls painted a stark white, illuminated by a single soft white bulb shielded within a dome overhead. Craning her neck to the right, she could barely see a door in the wall behind her, but it was closed.

"Clark?" she asked groggily as she caught sight of a shoulder in her peripheral vision. He was slumped over, possibly still unconscious, and she was willing to bet he was tied up in the same way she was. "Are you awake?"

He straightened at the sound of her voice, sounding a bit better than she did when he spoke. "Lois? Are you okay?"

"Well, I can't say that bondage has ever been my thing, really, but I guess I'm always up for trying something new," she said with as much humor as she could manage.

She swore she could hear his smile as he asked, "And how are you liking it so far?"

She sighed dramatically. "I have to say it's highly overrated. What do you say we get out of here?"

"I'd love to," he answered honestly, and she could hear some sort of muffled sound behind her that she guessed to be caused by him testing the strength of the duct tape that likely bound his hands just as it bound hers. "Any ideas?"

She had to give him credit: he was doing a pretty good job of pretending to be unconcerned. She didn't know if her forced levity was keeping him calm or if his lack of panic was due to his nonchalant replies – or both – but she definitely appreciated the effort. "I'm working on it," she answered. "On the other hand, I'm the one who suggested 'let's get out of here' so, so far, I'm the only one pulling my weight. You should feel welcome to pitch in if anything comes to mind."

"I'll try to remember that," he said through a grunt.

Discarding the witty banter for the moment, Lois tried to find a way out of her bindings, but she didn't have much luck. Whoever had tied them up had known what they were doing, that was for sure. There was no give in the duct tape at all, no way to wrench her wrist free.

Finally, panting, she had to take a break. Her exertions weren't getting her anywhere, and there was no use wasting her time and energy on a futile exercise. She would just have to think of something else, some other way to escape.

Another cursory glance around the room proved only marginally more helpful in that regard than the first. Craning her head to the left, she saw a small rickety TV tray with a glass of water on top. Though she wasn't sure how she'd get a hold of a shard even if she managed to move close enough to tip the tray over and break the glass, something was always better than the nothing that she had right now.

Her mind made up, Lois planted her feet and tried to move the chair but it didn't budge. As her heart sank into her stomach, she looked down and saw that her chair was bolted to the ground and she had to suppress a sudden tiny sob of despair at the sight. They'd had so few options to begin with, and the ones they had were dwindling rapidly.

They were going to get killed if she didn't find a way out of this situation. Clark was going to get killed. Because of her. Because she'd wanted a story. Because, as usual, she rushed headlong into a dangerous situation without pausing to look at the treacherousness of the terrain first.

The silence stretched between them until Lois could bear it no longer. Their situation was terrifyingly hopeless, and there was nothing Clark could say to change that. But, still, she needed to hear the sound of his voice for as long as she could until…

"Clark, I'm sorry," she murmured sadly as she renewed her efforts to break through the duct tape. It was unlikely she'd have any more success now than she had before, but she couldn't bear to just do nothing. "I should never have gotten you into this."

She heard a pause in the rustling behind her, and then Clark answered softly, "If you hadn't brought me along I'd have followed you here anyway, Lois. Like you said, I'll never be rid of you."

Lois wanted to reply, but when her laugh began to sound instead like a tiny panicked sob, she had to bow her head in an attempt to muffle the sound. She needed to be strong for Clark. She knew he was probably scared; hell, she was frightened half out of her mind. But she couldn't give in to that terror, not yet. Not until they were safe.

Besides, Clark was new at this. Lois was used to putting her life at risk on a rather frighteningly regular basis; her partner had lived a far more staid life to this point than she. He had to be hanging on to his composure by a thin thread; if she gave in to the panic tightening her throat, it would undoubtedly send him over as well.

No, she had to keep a cool head. She had to stay calm. It was the only way she would ever be able to get the two of them out of this alive.

Closing her eyes, Lois breathed in a few deep breaths, trying to center herself so she didn't lose her composure. Her efforts were not having much of an effect when she heard Clark's voice. "Lois," he said softly, "It's going to be okay. I'm going to find a way to get you out of this, okay? I'm not going to let anything happen to you; I promise you that."

Her laugh had a desperate edge to it and she didn't open her eyes when she replied, "Aren't I supposed to be telling you that? I mean, I thought it was my job to calm the newbie down."

"You'll get it next time," he promised, and she felt something brush lightly against her fingers. Wrenching her shoulders into an even more uncomfortable position, she thrust her hands behind her as far as she could and felt Clark's fingers lace awkwardly through her own. Though the position put pressure in her shoulders that created a throbbing pain sharp enough set her teeth on edge, she clutched tightly to the hand in hers and refused to let go.

Another silence fell between them, until finally Clark said, "Lois, there's something I want to tell you."

"Yeah?" she grunted as she clutched onto Clark with one hand and renewed her efforts to break through the duct tape with the other. "What's that?"

"Before anything else happens, I want…I _need_…to tell you where I've been these late few months." His voice was soft, but there was a note in his words that caused her to catch her breath as tears stung at her eyes. "It's a little hard to explain, but I…"

"No!" she blurted loudly, startling them both. With a ferocity she couldn't entirely explain, she spat, "Don't you dare! Don't you _dare_ Clark! You stop talking right now!"

"But I…!" he began to protest, but she cut him off.

Squeezing his hand as tightly as she could, she cried, "No! I don't want to hear it! This isn't goodbye, Clark! You got that? _This isn't goodbye!_ So you can save your heartfelt confessions because I don't want to hear them; not right now! You can tell me anything you want when we get out of here, but this _isn't goodbye_, so don't you dare start pouring your heart out like this is going to be your last chance!"

"Lois, I…" he began weakly, but then he stopped with a sigh. "Okay, Lois. I'll tell you later. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to…we'll talk about it later, all right?"

With a loud sniffle, she nodded. Certain that her expression revealed more than she'd intended, she ducked her head to hide her face from view, though she knew he couldn't see her.

"Well, well, well! Look who's awake! I guess it's time for our little game to begin!"

The stranger's voice was a sudden intrusion into the quiet moment, causing Lois to jump so sharply that a sharp pain shot through her shoulders. Still, she refused to let go of the hand in hers, though she did turn her head as far as she could to catch a glimpse of the doorway.

"Who are you?" she demanded angrily of the figure she could only barely see, her tears stopped as suddenly as they'd begun. "What do you want from us? You let us go right now or I'll kill you, I swear to…"

"Well, now, that's not very polite, is it?" a second voice joined the first, cutting off Lois's ineffectual threat. There were two of them?

Apparently so, she could see when they walked around the periphery of the room to stand in Lois's line of sight. The man was tall and burly, though some of his muscle had turned to fat. He looked like a football player who'd passed his prime and let himself turn to seed. The woman next to him was pretty in a brassy store-bought kind of way. The blonde hair that came directly from a bottle was pulled back into a pony tail, the make-up was lathered on with a trowel, but there was still something oddly familiar about the woman who was smiling at the couple tied up before her with a predatory smile.

"I'm sorry," Lois snarled as she gave her wrists another vicious tug that accomplished absolutely nothing. "I must have left my manners at home. But then again, I don't think Emily Post ever talked about the proper way to deal with a couple of murdering psychopaths."

"Funny," the woman's caustic voice replied as her eyes narrowed. "I didn't realize you were so funny, Lois."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," Lois snarled. "Why don't you untie me and I'll be happy to make a proper introduction?"

The couple exchanged glances as they resumed their slow circuit of their captives. "So, do you like them, sweetheart?" the man asked, ignoring the show of bravado, and again Lois thought there was something familiar about him though she couldn't place it.

"Oh, they're perfect!" the blonde replied. Perfect for what, Lois wondered, afraid to find out for sure.

Clark's voice was far calmer than she would have thought when he asked, "What do you want with us? Whatever it is, if you let Lois go, I'll make sure I get it for you. You don't have to do this."

"Have to?" the woman asked with a laugh. "Oh, honey, don't you get it?" Even turning her head as far as it would go, Lois couldn't catch sight of what was going on behind her, though she heard the sound of footsteps approach. When the blonde spoke again, her breath brushed the back of Lois's neck as she bent to murmur tauntingly in Clark's ear, "We don't _have _to do anything; we do it because it's fun."

"Fun?" he demanded angrily, and Lois felt his wrist yank in her grip though he didn't release her hand. "You call killing people fun?"

"Pretty much, yeah," the man replied laughingly as he moved into Lois's view. She watched in horror as he pulled a large hunting knife out of its sheath on his waistband. The blade had to be at least twelve inches long and serrated, and she saw him gauge her reaction in delight as he held the knife up for her to see.

Taking a step towards her, the man brought the blade up to her neck, pressing it against her skin. The blade bit through the soft flesh until a thin trail of blood eased through the wound and started to trickle down her neck. Lois wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but there was something entrancing about the look of anticipatory glee in the eyes staring intently at her and she couldn't look away. He was soaking in every nuance of her reaction, feeding off the slightest hint of fear, and she realized that they hadn't been joking earlier. They had killed eight people for _fun._

From his position behind her, Lois dimly heard Clark yelling for her to be released, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the eyes that were locked on hers. More terrifying than the blade pressed against her skin was the absolute lack of emotion in the eyes of the man who held her life in his hands. There was no pity there, no compassion, no mercy. There was also no insanity there; the man staring at her with such diabolical glee seemed terrifyingly sane.

Instinctually, she swallowed heavily so she could speak around the lump of fear in her throat, but the action only caused the knife to dig deeper into her skin and she winced. "Let Clark go," she finally managed to croak. Her assailant seemed unmoved.

Lois hated to beg. She _never_ begged, not for anything, even her own life. She'd faced down guns and knives, murderers and terrorists, and she'd never once begged for mercy on her own behalf. But this wasn't for her; this was for Clark. Her best friend – some might say her better half. The one person who'd always had faith in her, even during those rare times when she had been tempted to waiver, to lose faith in herself. He had been, for a long time, the one constant in her life – the one person she knew more than anything would stand beside her through thick and thin. Even when he'd disappeared for three months, there had been a part of her that had still held tight to the hope that he would have been there for her, if it had been possible. For Clark, she could beg.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, I'm…I'm begging you. Let Clark go. You don't have to…you don't have to do this. Please, just don't…don't hurt him." Her voice was choked as she pleaded with the merciless man in front of her, but her efforts got her nothing but a slightly deeper gash on her neck. He was entirely unmoved.

For a moment, he took his eyes off her to look at his girlfriend, and then he smiled. When he looked back at his captives, a shudder passed down Lois's spine. "Oh, I'm not going to kill him, sweetheart," he drawled, and yet Lois didn't feel relieved. His voice was light and cheerful – this wasn't a stay of execution he was suggesting. It was somehow part of the "game." With the grin on his face widening, he added, "You are."


	9. An Impossible Choice

**Part 9: An Impossible Choice**

"I…wh-what?" she breathed as he bent and, with a quick jerk of the knife, sliced through her binds. He was careless as he did so and nicked her skin, but she barely felt it as he wrapped a hand under her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet. "I don't understand," she said a bit stupidly as she looked between the two of them. Her mind was racing too fast; it was hard for her to focus, to form an escape plan.

Her captor jerked her to the side so she was standing beside Clark's chair, and then he released her. Knowing she didn't have long to act, Lois took the opportunity when it presented itself to her. Staggering as if she was still under the influence of the sedative they'd slipped in her champagne (which wasn't entirely an act), she careened to the side, toppling the table with the glass on it as she fell heavily to the ground. The glass on top of the table shattered as it hit the ground, and Lois palmed one of the shards as surreptitiously as she could in her left hand just before her captor hauled her to her feet once more.

"Hey, Amber," he griped as he yanked Lois roughly by the arm. "How much did you slip these guys, anyway? They're not going to be too much fun if they're too drugged to make a run for it." If that wasn't a terrifying suggestion, Lois didn't know what was.

"I just used the usual amount," the blonde said defensively. "Maybe she just had more to drink than the others did."

As the two of them bickered, Lois tried to stifle her relieved sigh. So far, they hadn't caught on to the fact that she had palmed a sharp piece of glass. Now if only she could find a way to slip it to Clark without anyone noticing, maybe the two of them would get out of this situation in one piece.

Before she could formulate a plan or put it into action, the linebacker grabbed her by the arm and yanked her roughly to the side to stand in front of Clark. "All right, listen up, Princess," he growled irritably as she staggered in surprise and he had to right her again. When cold steel pressed against the side of her temple, she heard Clark scream angrily for her captor to let her go, but even Clark fell silent at the metallic click of a gun being cocked, which seemed unnaturally loud to Lois's ears. "Do I have your attention?" the linebacker snarled. "Good! Because we're about to explain the rules of our little game, and trust me. You don't want to miss out on anything important."

"Oh, Steve, let me do it this time," Amber cooed as she walked up on Lois's other side, brandishing two guns of her own.

If it weren't for the fact that her knees were weak, her breathing ragged, and her lunch less than certain it wanted to remain in her stomach, Lois might have made some sort of snide remark. As it was, she was concentrating on finding an opening, even if it meant launching herself into Clark's lap so she could slip him the shard of glass she was trying to keep hidden.

At Steve's nod, Amber's face contorted into a terrifying smile as she handed Lois one of the guns she had in her hand. "Be careful! It's loaded!" she said mockingly as Lois shifted its weight. "Just one bullet, though, so you have to make it count."

Lois didn't care move her head, since she still had a gun pressed to her skull. However, she darted a quick look between her attackers. "S-So that's it? I just…I try to shoot one of you before you get a chance to kill me first?" There had to be something she was missing here.

Indeed there was, she could tell by the laugh echoing between the people on either side of her. "No," Amber corrected her as she cocked the gun in her hand and pointed it at Clark. "Not quite. You see, you do get to make a choice. You can kill Clark here…or you can kill yourself."

"I can…wh-what?" Lois repeated. "You can't honestly expect me to…!"

"Oh, yeah, we do," Steve interjected. "And not only that, but you _are_ going to do it."

"If I refuse?" Lois retorted angrily, for the moment not even caring about the cold metal against her skin. "What if I say I'm not going to play your stupid game?"

Amber and Steve exchanged glances. "Well, then, if you're not going to play, we'll have to do it for you. You see, Lois," Steve said, "If you shoot Clark, we let you go. If you shoot yourself, we let Clark here, go. If you refuse to decide, we'll take the decision out of your hands and kill you both."

"You're lying," Clark spat angrily from his position in the chair. "You're going to kill us both either way. We're reporters, you guys. We've been sent her to investigate these murders. Eight people have been killed – _eight _– so you see, we know that you've never let anyone go!"

"Reporters, huh? I see…" Amber said thoughtfully as she looked at her captives through narrowed eyes. "You know, I wondered if there was something up with you two. We almost decided you weren't qualified to play our little game. There was just something…_missing _between you two. It wasn't until that little scene today in the lobby that we changed our minds."

Lois's mind raced. That scene in the lobby – they must have seen it if that was what caused them to decide to kidnap the two of them. But how would they…?

And then the penny dropped and Lois stared in shock at the woman in front of her. She recognized her now. She was the maid assigned to their room, the one who had interrupted the practice kiss Lois had shared with Clark. She'd been down in the lobby that day, one of the maids who had been watching them from behind the desk.

It made sense, that a maid would have been behind the abductions. Nobody else would be in a better position to clean up the scene of the crime – to wash the drugs from the champagne flutes and dispose of the bottle, to clean up any incriminating evidence that was left behind if anything went wrong and a struggle resulted. No wonder the police had never found any evidence.

But, still, there was a question remaining. Lois understood how Amber could clean all the evidence from the room, but, still, if all the couples were abducted from the hotel, there should have been footage on the security cameras of the bodies being carted out of the room. The only way for Amber and Steve to have covered their tracks completely would have been for them to alter the videotape, but that would mean…

Steve was a security guard at the hotel. Of course. In fact, now that she thought about it, she thought she vaguely remembered him. Had she bumped into him at some point when she was making her way back to her room?

"You were right," Lois told Amber as she processed this new revelation. "There was something up with us. W-we're not a couple; we were just pretending."

Amber smirked. "Yeah, we wondered if you maybe the two of you weren't really happy together. You were trying too hard to convince everyone that you were. But after today…well, sweetheart, let's just say that we've seen people fake a number of things since we started this game, but there's no way the two of you could have faked that scene in the lobby."

"You'd be surprised," Lois offered desperately in an attempt to convince her captors that she and Clark weren't worth the game. "We're just really good actors, trust me, because Clark and I can't stand each other! We're just partners at the paper; we're not in any kind of committed relationship! We're barely friends!"

Amber and Steve exchanged significant looks. "If that's true, then your choice should be easy," Steve interjected. "Shoot Clark here and go free! After all, you're not close, as you say. What do you have to lose?"

Her composure cracked, and Lois screamed, "You're lying! You're going to _kill us both_ you bastards, and we know it! so stop playing these stupid games! I'm not going to do what you tell me to do because there's no point! You're going to kill us anyway!"

Amber laughed. "Actually, you're wrong, Lois. We've always let one person go. If they didn't survive, it's because they didn't live up to the rest of our rules."

"And what are those?" Lois demanded angrily. "Enough of this bullshit; tell me what you want from us!"

Amber shifted so she could meet Lois's eyes. There was such unholy glee in the blonde woman's gaze that even Lois wanted to shrink away from it, not that she would even if she could do so. "All right," Amber capitulated. "The rules. We haven't lied to you about them, honey. You have a gun in your hand with one bullet and one bullet only in it. Use it to kill yourself, and we let Clark go. Use it to kill Clark, and we let you go. Understand?"

"But we just…" Clark began again, but Amber cut him off.

"Either way, one of you is set free and you can try to get away from here. But since we do like our little games, we're not going to let you go for long. Lois, if you shoot Clark here, you have a one minute head start on us. You can run, and maybe you'll even get enough of a start on us that you might actually get away. There's always a chance, right?" The predatory look on Amber's face made the fact that the chance was slim even more stark. "We want you to run, run as fast and as hard and as far as you can…because we love the game. And when we catch you…"

"You'll torture me," Lois finished heavily. "I've seen what you do with the bodies."

"Not all of them," Amber disagreed. "But killing your husband to save your own life…it's just so selfish, don't you think? We think it's only fair in return that we don't make your death so quick and easy when we catch you. It's our turn to have a little fun! Don't you think we deserve it, after all the trouble we've been put through?"

As Amber taunted Lois, Steve turned his attention on Clark. "Now, on the other hand," Steve said as he pulled the gun away from Lois's head, though he did keep it trained on her as he moved to kneel next to Clark's chair. "If you shoot yourself, Lois, we set Clark here go. And as opposed to the one minute head start you'd buy yourself if you kill him, if you kill yourself, we'll give him a full five minutes before we come after him."

"And if you catch up with him?" she asked heavily.

"We'd make it as quick and painless as possible," he assured her. Like there was any assurance to be found in this. "It's the least we could do, after all. I mean, this entire game…we're testing the commitment you two have for each other. Would you believe, so many couples come in and out of that spa every day, talking about how much they love their husbands or wives. Most of it is bullshit, really. Put them to the test, and most people will do what comes naturally to them – they'll save their own asses. I think a little mutilation is the least people deserve if they're going to kill the person they're supposed to be the most committed to, at the slightest chance that they might be able to save their own ass."

Amber spoke up while Lois was trying to process this information. "Personally, I'm kind of hoping you'll choose to shoot Clark and take your chances. Killing people quickly just takes all the fun out of it, but when we get to take our time…? You wouldn't believe how much fun it is to hear people scream for hours, and when they begin to beg for death…it's such a rush!" Amber finished with unholy glee.

Lois felt like she'd swallowed her tongue. "N-No…," she moaned miserably as she felt the heavy weight of the gun in her palm. "I-I can't…Please. Please don't make me do this."

"Why not?" Amber taunted her, a mocking smile on her face. "I thought you were barely friends! This should be an easy choice for you." When Lois couldn't respond other than to shake her head viciously in mute appeal, her captor laughed. "Yeah, I thought so. Nice try, Lois."

Steve, clearly the more impatient of the two, sounded irritable as he broke in, "Well, you either make the decision or we'll do it for you. What's it going to be?"

Biting the inside of her lip, Lois looked between the two people who held her life in their hands. "Can I…Can I at least kiss Clark goodbye before I…before I decide?" she asked, knowing the opening wasn't much, but also knowing it was the likely to be the best they'd get.

Steve and Amber exchanged a look before Amber replied in a bored voice as she took the gun out of Lois's hand, "Fine. Just make it quick. The clock's ticking."

Lois didn't need to be told twice. Climbing awkwardly into Clark's lap, she wrapped one hand behind his neck, threading her fingers through his hair as she brought her lips to his. As she began to kiss him, she trailed her left hand down Clark's arm to his hand, where she passed him the small shard of glass she'd palmed as surreptitiously as she could.

It was then that she realized that what had started as a mere distraction had become something more. Lois began to kiss Clark with as much passion as she could, pouring everything into what might be the last embrace the two of them would ever share – everything she'd felt for him from the moment they'd met, every ounce of conflicted emotion she felt for him today, every hope she'd entertained during endless evening hours of a possible future they could maybe have shared together, if only…There were so many "if onlys."

Even after the kiss should probably have ended, Lois found she couldn't pull away. This could be her one chance, her one shot to tell Clark everything she should have told him before but had never found the nerve to say. If she couldn't tell him with words, she could tell him with her kiss. She loved him. She loved him, and if the two of them didn't find a way out of this, she didn't want…whatever was going to happen next to happen without having expressed her love for him in whatever way she could.

"All right, that's enough!" Steve growled as he pulled Lois back to her feet. It was only once the kiss ended that Lois realized that tears were trickling down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt. At some point during her kiss with Clark, she'd begun to cry and her tears, once begun, wouldn't stop.

"Let her go!" Clark screamed as Lois raised her hands to hide her face as she cried. When his anger had no impact, he began to beg. "Please…you don't have to do this…please…let her go. Just…you can do whatever you want to me, but don't…" He trailed off, apparently realizing that no amount of begging would gain either of them mercy.

"Lois," he said instead, his voice soft but sure. "Lois, look at me." With a pitiful hiccup, she pulled her hands away so she could look at him, though her vision was blurred from the tears that kept coming.

Grabbing her wrist, Amber thrust the gun back into Lois's hand, an evil smile on her face. "Thirty seconds to decide, sweetie," she said caustically.

"Clark," Lois whispered, tearing her eyes off him only long enough to glance at her captors again. But they clearly anticipated her thoughts, because they both were prepared, a gun cocked and ready, trained at each of the captives' heads. "I don't know what…" She couldn't finish, but she didn't need to. She could see it in his eyes, as well. Though she'd given him the piece of glass, it wasn't enough; the bindings were too thick. It was very unlikely that he would manage to cut through the tape before she was forced to make a decision, and even if he could, it was very unlikely that the two of them would get out of this alive.

"Lois," he said, a steel edge in his voice. "I want you to shoot me."

"You…what?" she demanded. "No! I'm not going to…No!" she cried, so surprised by his words that she stopped crying abruptly. "Are you insane?"

Unfazed by her protest, he continued, "Lois, please. You need to listen to me. You need to _trust_ me."

Breaking eye contact, she looked at the weapon in her hands, pondering it for a second in silence. It looked so innocuous, and yet she knew what it could do. Of course, she'd never actually seen combat, but as her father's daughter, she'd seen what a weapon like this could do. She'd seen the way bullets could tear through flesh, through bone. She'd seen the wounds they left behind in those lucky enough to survive the experience. She'd also seen the coffins, the endless row of polished pine boxes, containing the bodies of those who weren't so lucky.

And she was about to join them. Because though Clark told her to shoot him, she knew with absolute certainty that this was one thing she'd never be able to do.

Her resolve strengthened as she looked back up at him. No, she didn't want to die. She was far too _alive _to ever want to die. But while she didn't want to die, she knew there was no way she could ever do what he was asking her to do. Her hand shook slightly but her voice was even as she continued, "I can't. I just…I can't do that. When you get free, I want you to run as hard as you can. You'll have five minutes; I know you can do it. Run and…and don't look back, okay?" On this last word, her voice cracked a little, but her resolve stayed firm.

"Lois, please!" he begged as she raised the gun with shaking hands and, swallowing heavily, closed her eyes. "You promised you'd never leave me!" he yelled fiercely, the anger in his voice startling her so much that her eyes flew open again.

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Though their time had undoubtedly passed, apparently Amber and Steve were as wrapped up in the moment as Lois was, because nobody said anything. Finally, Clark repeated softly, his voice a soft plea, "You…you promised you'd never leave me. So, you see, you can't do this now. You can't…you _promised_ me, Lois."

He was breaking her heart – his voice, the look on his face, his very being shattering it into a million pieces. Did he think this was easy for her? Did he think she would do this if the alternative weren't so completely impossible? She didn't want to die, not ever. But she couldn't – she just _couldn't_ – live with the thought of living in a world without the man in front of her, knowing that she was the reason why he was gone. It would break her and, in the end, though she might survive this day, there would be a large part of her that would never leave this room, that would die right next to him. Of that, she was sure.

He seemed oblivious to her thoughts, however, because he said, "Shoot me, Lois. You can…you can survive this. You can get out of here, I know you can. If anyone can, it's…it's you. Shoot me and run."

Lois shook her head. "Oh, Clark," she murmured. "Don't you remember? You promised me too, you know. You promised if you ever left me, it wouldn't be by choice. So how can you ask me to do that?"

He pinned her with his gaze but he didn't answer her as he said, "If you…," he paused, clearly unable to finish the thought. "I won't leave you behind, you know. Even if it means they catch me, I don't care. I'm not leaving you, so there's no point in you…doing what you're thinking of doing. I won't be saved either way."

Her mouth twitching into a tremulous smile, she said softly, "Yes, you will. You'd never let me die for nothing. I know you too well. Besides, I'm not leaving you, Clark. Don't you realize? No matter what happens, you'll never be rid of me." She was sure there would always be a part of Clark that would carry the memory of her with him, even if it was just as the little voice in his ear, reminding him not to take life too seriously.

"Time to decide, Lois," Steve cut in from his position behind her, where she knew he had a gun trained on the back of her head. "What's it going to be?"

Tilting her chin up, Lois stared into Clark's eyes and said steadily. "Okay. I'm ready." Her hand shaking only slightly, she lifted the gun, heedless of Clark's cries as he tried to stop her from doing what she was about to do. "It's okay, Clark," she said as she pressed the barrel against the underside of her chin. "It's going to be okay."

It wasn't really going to be okay, and Lois knew it. But she also knew she was going to do what she could to get out of this in one piece, even if she wasn't going to be able to join him. No, she didn't want to die, but if it meant saving Clark, she was willing to make that sacrifice.

Clark was straining against his binds, and Lois saw the wicked smile cross Amber's face as she watched the man in the chair scream in rage; Lois knew she was just waiting to see the expression on his face when he watched his 'wife' die right in front of him, with him helpless to stop it. Figuring Steve and Amber were likely to be as distracted as they ever would get, Lois took the split second afforded her and acted.

With all the military training that had been drilled into her head from the time she was small, Lois jerked the gun away from her chin, pointed it in Amber's direction, and fired even as she dropped to hit the deck. She didn't have much time to aim, but, then again, she didn't need much time either. This was it; her one shot. She knew that there was every likelihood that Steve had seen her motion and that his finger was tightening on the trigger of his gun even as she fired at Amber; she knew odds were good there would be a bullet speeding towards her head well before she managed to get out of its way, but she didn't care.

Lois wasn't a quitter, and she wasn't the type to kill herself. Yes, she might die tonight, but she'd be damned if she ever went down without a fight.

Time seemed to slow as she watched as the bullet from her gun lodged in Amber's shoulder, causing her to drop her gun, but even as she felt a surge of self-satisfaction, Lois knew that her gamble was not going to pay off, at least not for her. A split second after her own gun fired, she heard the echo of another shot and she knew she was about to die. She could almost picture the scene in her mind – the bullet speeding towards her head as gravity was too slow to pull her out of the path of the projectile.

Clark might have a chance to make it out of this alive, but it seemed that Lois would not be joining him.

"NO!" she heard Clark bellow, the sound echoing slowly in the strange temporal distortion she was experiencing, and before Lois knew what had happened, she felt a force barrel into her, knocking her backwards. She landed hard, the impact knocking the breath out of her lungs, and lay still for a moment, wondering if she was still alive. The sound of fists pummeling into flesh decided the issue for her, however, and so she cracked her eyes open again and looked around to get her bearings.

Clark had apparently managed to saw his way through the duct tape tying his hands together, and he and Steve were rolling around on the floor, exchanging punches. She didn't know how the bullet headed straight to her head had missed her, but she certainly wasn't going to complain about it. When she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, Lois realized that Amber was racing to grab the gun she'd dropped, her injured arm cradled uselessly against her side.

As Lois scrambled to get her feet under her, she swore that there was no way in hell she was going to risk her own life in an effort to save Clark's only to be killed by a peroxide blonde bimbo who didn't know when she'd been beaten. "I don't think so, bitch!" she snarled as she tackled her former captor, bringing them both heavily to the ground. As they landed, Amber let out a cry, but Lois didn't allow herself to feel compassion for her opponent's injury. Her life was on the line, she knew – as was Clark's – and she could not afford to lose sight of that.

Lois didn't know if her perception was altered by the remnants of the drugs in her system or if Amber's single-minded purpose had granted her an excess of strength or determination, but their struggle was vicious. For a woman who was injured, Amber certainly knew how to attain maximum impact with each of her blows and she fought with an almost manic level of energy. For her part, Lois was fighting for her very life, her desperation lending her a ruthlessness that she hadn't usually displayed when sparring with a partner in her martial arts classes.

"Oof!" Lois grunted as Amber's elbow somehow managed to make contact with her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her. Struggling for air, she lunged, trying to grab a hold of her opponent to keep her from getting a hold of the gun. Her efforts were unsuccessful, however; before she could pull Amber back into the fray, the other woman picked up the weapon with an exultant cry.

"Say goodbye to Clark, Lois," she snarled, swinging the gun around to point it at Clark, and Lois acted without thinking.

Every emotion Lois had been through in the last couple of days poured out of her in a primal scream that seemed to echo in the tiny room. All of her confusion, her rage, her fear – every emotion that she had suppressed since Clark had disappeared tore out of her in an incoherent cry as Lois threw her weight forward, wrapped her hand around Amber's leg, and pulled as hard as she could.

As a gunshot tore through the air, everything stopped. It was as if the world was holding its breath. Amber pulled her ankle out of fingers that had gone numb, and Lois stopped struggling to restrain her opponent, her breath caught in her lungs. The gun had been pointed at Clark mere moments before. Had the bullet hit its mark?

"Clark?" she moaned as she glanced desperately in his direction, but there was no immediate reassurance to be found there. Steve and Clark had been grappling moments before but, as with Lois and Amber, they had stopped at the sound of the gunshot.

Struggling to rise to her feet, Lois watched with her heart in her throat as a look of utter confusion crossed Clark's face. And then she watched as Steve tumbled to the ground like a felled oak, the sound of his body hitting the floor eerily amplified in the small area. As he lay motionless where he fell, a dark pool of red liquid began to seep from under his body, the lurid stain on the cement slowly spreading around him.

"Steve?" Amber whispered, the gun clattering against the concrete as she rushed forward to the man who was lying motionless on the ground. Throwing her body over his, she began to wail, "You killed him! You killed him!"

Lois barely heard the commotion. She felt rooted to the spot as her eyes swept over the man in front of her, searching for injuries, needing to assure herself that he was unharmed. It was only when Clark turned to face her, his shoulders sagging with relief, that Lois's heart started to beat again. He was okay. Somehow, miraculously, the two of them had made it out of this entire ordeal in one piece.

Pausing only long enough to kick the gun aside and into the far corner, she raced forward, Clark's name the only word on her lips as she threw her arms around him and held him as tight as she could, her face tucked against the soft skin of his neck. Her breath came in tortured gasps as she held tightly to the man in her arms and the world began to spin on its axis again. "I-I thought…" she moaned, her voice muffled against his shirt, but she couldn't complete the thought; it was just too terrible to imagine.

"I know," he responded quietly, his voice ragged in her ear. "But I'm okay, Lois. I'm okay." Though he was clearly making an effort to sound reassuring, the arms wrapped around her, holding her tight against his body, were as implacable as steel and the voice in her ear was distinctly unsteady. "I thought you were going to leave me," he whispered, the pain in his voice tearing her heart in two.

"Never," she swore, reluctantly loosening the hold she had on him so she could pull back far enough to stare into his face. "I promised you I'd never leave you, Clark, and I meant it. Did you honestly think a psychopath with a gun was going to make me break my promise?" Truth be told, she'd been rather afraid that the psychopaths with guns would do just that, but she'd be damned if she told him that.

He looked haggard from everything the two of them had been through, but the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. "I guess I should never underestimate you, huh, Lois?"

"Now you're learning, Smallville," she teased him a relieved smile that was still a little shaky. Brushing the hair off his forehead, she rested her palm tenderly against his cheek, needing to feel the warmth against her skin as reassurance that he really was unharmed. Her voice caught in her throat as she thought about what it was she'd almost lost before she'd even realized she'd found it, and it was with an effort that she choked out, "C-come on; let's find a phone. You call the police and I'll call Jimmy, tell him where we are and to hurry out here as fast as possible." Perhaps it sounded callous, but in the end, eight people had died and Lois and Clark had both come perilously close to joining them. They had risked – and almost lost – their lives for the sake of a story; Lois wasn't about to let it be for nothing. Besides, concentrating on a headline worked wonders in preventing her from thinking about things she'd rather not think about at present. Like whatever it was that was happening between her and Clark.

At Clark's nod, Lois turned to gaze sadly at the picture in front of her. Amber was clutching Steve's dead body in her arms, her tears dripping onto his shirt as she sobbed uncontrollably. It was hard to believe, now that it was over, that these two people had caused so much pain and misery and fear. It was hard to believe that they'd gotten such sick enjoyment out of what they considered a game – kidnapping newlywed couples and testing their commitment to each other by demanding they make an impossible choice.

And now it was all over. Lois supposed she should be relieved. Happy, even. But in the end, all she was left with was a profound sense of sadness. Reaching for Clark, she felt the reassuring weight of his hand in hers. After everything that had happened, he was standing there, right by her side, comforting her with his very presence. He hadn't left her behind. She was no longer alone.

"Come on," he murmured softly. "Let's get this over with, and then we can go home."

Nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that one word did in that moment. 'Home.' The Kent Farm, where hot chocolate, bunny slippers, and a long hot bath awaited her. Where she had found the first family she'd ever really known, the best friend she could ever have asked for, and the man she couldn't help but love. He'd somehow snuck up on her and stolen her heart while her attention had been elsewhere, and the kicker was that she wasn't even entirely sure he realized he'd done so.

There were a thousand questions that needed to be asked. Some day in the very near future, Lois and Clark were going to have to come to terms with the change in their relationship. After everything that had happened, the kisses they had shared and the realizations they'd been forced to make – that they would rather die themselves than sacrifice the other – things had definitely changed between them and they were going to have to figure out what exactly that meant and where to go from here. But not right now.

For now, it was enough that, after three months of missing him and three days of…_whatever_ had happened between them, they would be going home together. Lois didn't know what was going to happen in the future and, truth be told, she was a little scared to think about it. But for now, she had Clark by her side. And it was enough.


	10. Proof of Life

**Part 10: Proof of Life**

Clark sighed and reached as he gave the knob on the faucet a quick turn, cutting off the flow of water abruptly. His wet forehead plastered itself to his forehead as he reached for a towel, wrapping it around his body as he stepped out of the shower.

It was almost hard to believe that, after everything, he was finally home. With Lois. At the thought of how he had almost lost her his breath caught in his throat and it was with an effort that he forced himself to relax. The almost blind panic that had consumed him only a couple of short hours before had faded but not entirely left him, and so he constantly had to remind himself that Lois was safe and unharmed, just a couple of rooms away.

After wiping the steam off the mirror, he rested his trembling hands against the sink and leaned forward to examine his blurred reflection in the glass. He didn't need to see his image to know his powers had yet to completely return; the weariness in his bones told him that well enough. But, still, the sight of the cuts on his temple and side of his lip weren't encouraging sights.

For a few seconds, back in that room in which he and Lois had been held captive, Clark had almost felt like his old self. He'd been desperately sawing away at the tape binding his wrist, terrified that he wouldn't be able to free himself in time, when he'd seen Lois take a shot at Amber and knew with absolute certainty what was going to happen next if he didn't do anything to stop it.

The tape had given way and Clark had launched himself into action, and for a moment, he'd felt like he must have had his powers back. He _had _to have, or else how could he possibly have gotten to Lois in time? But looking at his reflection, Clark had to admit that his earlier feeling must have been a figment of his imagination because the man in front of him looked like a lot of things but "invulnerable" wasn't one of them.

Sighing heavily, Clark turned and walked to the bathroom door. This wasn't the night to worry about any of that. His lost powers were a problem for tomorrow; for tonight, all he wanted to do was to spend time with Lois, to be constantly reassured of her presence as he listened to her breathing softly beside him. Maybe then, the fear he'd felt when he'd thought he was about to lose her forever would fade.

Pushing the nightmarish scenario of what could have happened out of his mind with a grimace, Clark threw open the bathroom door to find Lois on the other side, her fist raised as if he had interrupted her when she was just about to knock. His appearance at the door clearly surprised her because she didn't speak right away, and he took the opportunity to let his gaze sweep over her, taking in her appearance.

She looked deliciously adorable with her damp hair brushed back from her face, dressed in one of his button-down shirts. It looked rumpled, like it had been perhaps been slept in. She had rolled up the sleeves, but the tail of the shirt hung down mid-thigh. Letting his gaze travel down the long line of bare leg that was exposed, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bunny slippers (dubbed "Bonnie" and "Clyde" to his recollection) on her feet.

"Er…hey!" she said brightly. "I was just about to ask if you were planning on spending all night in there or what!"

Clark smirked, letting himself fall into the playful banter that came so naturally between them. "Hardly, Lois, considering that you used up most of the hot water during your marathon shower. It gave me plenty of incentive to rush."

Chuckling, Lois stepped forward, causing him to take a couple steps back to let her through. He was about to leave to change into some proper attire when she grabbed him by the arm and tugged. "Not so fast, Smallville. Have a seat. I want to take a closer look at you." He couldn't help the mental image that came to mind at her words, and when he raised his eyebrows at her and grinned mischievously, her cheeks tinged red and she said pointedly, "I want to take a look at your injuries."

"Honestly, Lois, I'm fine," he assured her as he adjusted the towel wrapped around his waist. "The EMTs said I was…"

"The EMTs aren't me," she told him sternly as she stepped closer to him. "I haven't given you the Lane Certificate of Health, and you're not out of the woods until I do, mister. So either you make this easy on yourself and have a seat until I've checked you over or I do this the hard way."

Hm. Dilemma. To cross his arms over his chest and give her a mock stern look or to keep his hand on the only think keeping him from showing her the Full Monty right here in the bathroom? Not that she hadn't seen it before, of course, but he doubted he'd be able to maintain his mock stern look if his towel decided to give it up and fell to the floor in the middle of their encounter. And he would definitely look ridiculous standing in the middle of his bathroom wearing nothing but his birthday suit and a glower. Perhaps he should keep one hand on the towel at all times.

"Look, Clark, you know I'm going to have my way in this eventually, and you'll get through it a lot faster if you don't try to fight it," she said with arched eyebrows, challenging him to see things her way.

Unfortunately, he knew she had a point. He would cave on her eventually; he just wished she'd waited until he was properly clothed. "Can't I go put on some clothes first?" he tried in a last-ditch effort to avoid sitting through the undoubtedly not-so-tender ministrations of Lois Nightingale.

Shaking her head, she lowered the toilet seat and pointed at the makeshift chair. When he still looked dubious she sighed, her gaze skittering away from his for a moment. When she looked back at him, all the humor had fled from her face and she said earnestly, "Look, Clark, I…I just want to make sure you're okay. I need to…I just…I want to see for myself."

All his resistance crumbled in the face of her plea, and without another word, he moved over to the toilet and sat, patiently waiting for her to look him over to check his injuries. He supposed he couldn't blame her for her request, since he'd demanded that the EMTs check her over completely at least three times before he'd been satisfied that her own injuries weren't severe.

Clearing her throat, Lois grabbed one of his hands and examined the knuckles closely. The skin had split during his fistfight with Steve, and though it had started to scab over earlier, the wound had opened again as he washed his hair in the shower. Frowning, Lois grabbed some medical supplies from under the sink and prepared to treat his injuries.

Having her so close, Clark couldn't help but remember the undercover kisses they'd shared. Until that last day, he'd managed to keep everything in perspective. But when she'd kissed him in the lobby, he'd allowed himself to forget that it was all an act. And later, when he was tied up in the chair, praying for a miracle, she'd kissed him again. Though he knew it had just been a diversion, calculated to give her an opportunity to pass him the piece of glass that had eventually saved both their lives, it had been impossible for him to bear that in mind at the time. She'd kissed him…she'd kissed him like she loved him, and though she'd been very emphatic in telling him that this wasn't the end, that he wasn't supposed to think of this as goodbye, he hadn't been able to help but kiss her as if that embrace might be the last moment they had together. In his kiss had been everything he'd been too afraid to say, with everything he'd only realized when it was too late to do anything about it. He'd kissed her goodbye.

Remembering that moment, he knew that he should take this opportunity now to tell her everything he tried to show her earlier, but…he just couldn't do it. His feelings – or at the very least his awareness of them – were too new, and after the experience he'd just shared with Lois, he felt too vulnerable already. He was scared of what would happen if he told her now that he loved her. Would she return his feelings, or would he discover that it had all been nothing more than an act? No, he told himself sternly. That hadn't been just an act earlier, when she'd kissed him goodbye. He couldn't bring himself to believe that it was. Still, the awareness of whatever it was that was between them had come under the most extreme of emotional situations. They had been best friends for so long, they shouldn't rush things now.

But still, even with that thought in mind, Clark recognized that it was hard to have Lois so close and not pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her until she melted in his arms, to show her how much she meant to him – even if he wasn't ready to tell her with words just yet. To celebrate the fact that they were still alive and that, after everything Clark had been through – both in the last few days and in the months leading up to them – they were together.

He could smell the soft floral scene of her shampoo, even from where he was sitting. She was so close, he could feel the warmth of her body, though they were barely touching, and he leaned into it like a plant turning towards the sun. He wanted her. Shifting uncomfortably, Clark tried to think about something else before exactly how much he wanted the woman in front of him became all too readily apparent. A towel provided very little protection in that regard.

As Clark tried to think about something innocuous, he hoped that Lois would find a way to break the silence between them that had stretched to uncomfortable lengths. But she didn't speak, though he knew that silences were always painful for her. But it seemed that, after everything that had happened, Lois had no better idea what to say to him than he had of what to say to her. So they sat in strained silence, scared, perhaps, that if they spoke, they would say too much. Or maybe not enough.

When he could take the silence no longer, he remembered that there was at least one thing that he wanted to say to her. One thing that he needed to tell her, in fact, and while this was perhaps not the best time, it wasn't a subject that was ever going to find a convenient segue. "Lois…," he began with a bit of trepidation, "There's something I want to tell you."

She paused, the cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide a couple of inches from his hand, and looked up at him with a certain degree of wariness. "Yeah?" she prompted, her voice a little unsure.

Taking a deep breath, Clark braced himself. "About my disappearance…I-I want to tell you where I've been, but…it's kind of hard to explain."

He could swear that Lois looked disappointed for a moment, but then her gaze fell to the hand she held in her own. "You don't have to tell me if you aren't sure you want to, Clark," she offered. "I told you before that I –"

"No. Lois," he said, cutting her off. "I want to tell you. It's just that I don't really…well, to tell you the truth, I don't really know where I've been for the last three months. I mean, I know some but not…" He was explaining this badly, he knew, and as he struggled to find the words, she dabbed his knuckles with the cotton ball and then blew gently on the wound. Given that he'd been invulnerable for most of his life, he'd never really understood why people did that, but he had to admit now that there was something soothing about the feel of her breath against his skin. It helped to take the sting away.

It was also oddly erotic, which was something he was trying very hard not to notice, so he blurted hastily, "Lois, a couple of weeks ago, I woke up in…I don't really know where I'd been, actually, but I found myself on a Russian fishing vessel. They'd found me and rescued…well, they _said_ they'd rescued me, but then they told me that I had to pay off my debt. So they took me to a work camp and…" He paused and sighed heavily before asking somewhat irritably. "I'm not explaining this very well, am I?" He needed her to understand that he hadn't left her willingly – that he would never have left her like that for so long – but how could he explain it to her if he couldn't find the words?

Whether due to her own reasons or because she recognized that his task was marginally easier when she wasn't looking at him, Lois didn't take her eyes off his hand as she went about her task, moving from knuckle to knuckle to inspect the wounds for injury. Finally, she asked softly, "But you escaped?"

"Yeah," he answered, wincing a bit at the memory. "I stole a truck and managed to get away. And then I had to make my way back here, which was…it's wasn't easy."

Lois made a noncommittal sound, dropping his right hand so she could grab his left. It was only then that he remembered that he hadn't yet taken off the gold band on his ring finger, but, then again, when he glanced at her hands, he saw that she was still wearing hers, as well. Neither of them commented on it. Instead, she said gently, "You could have called me, you know. I've got connections; I could have called the General and had you on the next flight back here."

She was right, of course, and he'd even thought about calling her, once he'd finally made his way back to civilization after the truck he'd stolen had broken down, stranding him in the middle of nowhere. But, in the end, he'd called Oliver instead, stymied by the thought of what to tell Lois if he got on the phone. In all the time that had passed since that moment, he still hadn't found the right words. "I know," he admitted softly. "I just didn't know what to say, how to explain." It wasn't the best answer, but it was an honest one.

Pursing her lips, she blew on the last of his knuckles and then turned his hands over, inspecting his palms. Frowning thoughtfully, she didn't speak until her inspection of his hands was done and she turned her attention to the injuries on his face. Grabbing a fresh cotton ball soaked in peroxide, she dabbed it gently against a small cut on his left temple, near the hairline.

"So that's all you remember?" she finally asked, not meeting his eyes. "You left here and you woke up in Russia?"

Truth be told, that wasn't all he remembered, though everything else was harder to explain. His trip to the Arctic, his fight with Lex…there was something almost surreal about the memory. But without her knowing his secret, he wasn't entirely sure how he could possibly explain. Perhaps he should just confess everything to her – about where he was from, about what he could do. After everything they'd been through together in the last few days, there was certainly no question that he trusted her. And yet, if it had been a struggle to find the words to explain where he'd been for the last few months, it was downright impossible to think of a way to explain everything else about himself to her – particularly since he was still powerless and couldn't provide her with a practical demonstration.

So he could lie and tell her that it was all he remembered or he could tell the truth and take his chances. "No," he blurted abruptly, his voice a little too loud in the small space. Startled by the outburst, Lois's eyes flew to his, and he pinned them with his own as he explained as gently as he could, "No, that's not all I remember, but that's all I can tell you right now. I wish I could explain, but believe me when I tell you that I just…I can't. You probably wouldn't believe me right now anyway if I tried. But I need you to trust me, Lois. As soon as I can tell you, I will."

He held his breath as Lois regarded him intently, her gaze boring into him as if she was trying to read his innermost thoughts and possibly succeeding. "It has to do with that great big secret you've been carrying around with you since the day I met you, huh?" she finally asked.

"Wh-What do you mean?" he replied anxiously, and Lois had to hide her smile in the face of his obvious surprise and alarm. Instead, she restricted herself to simply rolling her eyes at him in exasperation.

She'd treated his cuts and there wasn't much she could do about his bruises – though, looking closely at him now, she was rather surprised to find that she couldn't see any obvious ones, given that he should have been covered in them. Walking over to the sink, she replaced the lid on the peroxide bottle and snorted at her patient. "Clark, in the four years I've known you, you've had amnesia no less than three times. That's not exactly normal. When I gave you a journal you're your birthday, it was because you've got more bottled up inside of you than a bottle of wine." Glancing at him pointedly, she added, "A situation that hasn't improved much since, by the way. I've walked in on you and Chloe whispering secretively together more times than I can count, and every time I do, the two of you aren't exactly the best at hiding the abrupt change of subject. She's a little bit better than you are, I have to admit, but only because your default seems to be stuck on asking her about some recent sports game, not because she's any better at acting casual than you are."

"We don't –!" Clark began to protest, but she cut him off with a laugh.

"Clark, Chloe hates sports, unless someone she knows is actually playing. Believe me when I say that it's pretty obvious to anyone who knows her half as well as I do that there's no way she'd actually be engaged in a heartfelt discussion of RBI scores…unless she was covering for something." Though she was tempted to continue teasing him – his attempts at "acting casual" were generally pretty lame – he looked both guilty and distressed, and she just didn't have the heart for it. So, instead of continuing her special brand of torture, she walked over to him and knelt on the ground at his feet so she could look him straight in the eye as she spoke, "It's okay, Clark. Really. I don't care that you have some big secret that you haven't told me." Her voice was gentle but firm; she needed him to believe that she was telling him the truth, that she wasn't lying to just give him an easy way out. He had to understand that she knew that there were secrets he wasn't yet ready to share, she wasn't going to demand more of him than he was willing to give.

"I want to, Lois," he said suddenly. "I do. Honest! I just…I don't know how to…"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "You're entitled to your secrets, Clark, and though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious, like I told you before…I don't want you to tell me anything because you think you'll lose me somehow if you don't. If and when you share your secrets with me, it has to be because you want to. Because you're ready. Until then…" She paused and let her gaze drop to his chin, unable to meet his eyes as she finished, "Y-you mean too much to me for me to push you for answers. I'm not going to lie; it's not easy for me to accept that there are some things I don't or can't know, but…I'm willing to try because…you just…you mean too much too me for me to risk losing you because of my own stupid curiosity. You'll tell me when you're ready – if that moment ever comes – and until then…I'm just happy to be your f…" she broke off, her mouth twisting when she realized she couldn't finish the thought. But he wasn't just her friend, not any longer. She didn't know what they were to each other any longer, but it certainly wasn't just friends. In an attempt to cover for the sudden awkward moment, she finished, "Tell me when you're ready, Clark. If you ever decide to share your secrets with me, do it for _you_, not for me."

Lois felt Clark place his hand on her chin, exerting a little pressure until she met his eyes again. "Lois, I…how can you trust me if you don't know everything about me?"

His voice was a plea she didn't quite understand. He sounded both sad and a little scared, and so she stared him unwaveringly in the eye, willing him to believe her. With a soft laugh, she asked, "You don't think I know you, Clark?" Reaching towards him, she braced his face in her palms, leaning into him until she could feel the brush of his breath against her mouth, but she didn't take her eyes off of his as she asked earnestly once more, "You don't think I know you?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she stroked his cheeks gently before lifting her hands to brush his hair off his forehead, being careful of the small cut at his temple. She let her eyes rove over the hard planes of his face, to take in every detail of the features she'd pictured so vividly in her mind every day for the past three months. She knew his face better than she knew her own, and the memory of the gleam in his eye when he teased her, the quirk of his lips when exchanged banter with her, the softness in his expression when he was looking at her in concern…these memories had been her only comfort as she lay in his bed at night, missing him more than words could say, more than she'd wanted to admit, even to herself. And he thought she didn't know him?

They were so close, she could see the slight widening of his eyes, could feel his breath grow ragged as it brushed her skin. They were teetering on the brink of something right now; she could feel it. So she had a choice. She could either run away from it, as she always did, or she could…she could give herself over to it. There were still questions to be asked; they would have to come to terms with the shift their friendship had taken over the last couple of days. But that was for tomorrow. For tonight…she just wanted to be with the man in front of her. Maybe on another day, she'd have been able to hide how much she wanted him, even from herself, but not tonight. She couldn't forget that she'd almost died – that he'd almost died for her – and so right now, she just didn't have it in her to build up her emotional barriers again. Perhaps it was illogical or even a little silly, but there was a part of her that wanted a reminder that she was still alive, that he was still alive. That he hadn't been taken from her and that she had – somehow, miraculously – been lucky enough not to be taken from him. Whatever other reasons she had to be where she was at the moment were perhaps even more terrifying to face, but she didn't have to examine those right now. That could wait for another day.

Bridging the distance between them, Lois brushed her mouth against his in a tender kiss. Without breaking the embrace, she raised her weight up on the balls of her feet and shifted forward, tilting his head back so she could continue the kiss as she straddled his legs. When she settled her weight into his lap, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her tight against him as he deepened the kiss.

When they finally broke the kiss, Lois's breath was none too steady, though she was pleased to note that Clark was faring no better. Resting her forehead against his own, she gasped, "I know you, Clark. I know that you're the best man I've ever known. You're the best friend I could ever ask for. And you're the only man that I l…" Her sentence broke off as she pulled away from him with a jerk. Had she really been about to confess that to him, when she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to admit it to herself just yet?

His arms still held her tight, not releasing her. "Don't," he said softly.

On a shaky laugh, Lois shook her head. She was willing to pretend that she had not been about to make such a confession if he was willing to let her, and it seemed as if, for the moment, he was. "Like I said, Clark. I know you. At least, I know everything I need to know about you to know that…that I want to be right here, right now."

The corner of his mouth quirking up, he joked, "In the bathroom?"

Lois chuckled as she looked around, her nose wrinkling as she took in their surroundings. "Well..maybe not," she conceded with another laugh.

When she looked back at Clark, however, she saw as the humor drain from his features as quickly has it had come. "I don't know that this is a good idea. You say that you're okay with my secret…whatever it is…but that's because you don't know what it is. What if I tell you everything about myself tomorrow and you…you change your mind about me?"

Arching her eyebrows, Lois frowned down at him. "Are you secretly married? Do you have three charming but illegitimate children tucked away somewhere that I don't know about? Are you a serial killer? A sociopath?" When he responded in the negative to all of these questions (with varying degrees of alarm), she said sternly, "Then whatever your secret is, it's not going to change my mind. I'm here right now because I want to be." He still looked unconvinced, so she sighed and glowered at him. She knew he wanted her; not only had he kissed her with a considerable amount of passion, but she was sitting flush against his body. He could hardly hide the evidence of his arousal from her, and, in a very deliberate move, she shifted slightly on his lap just to hear him gasp. A little physical torture was the least he deserved right now.

Before he could recover, she cried, "Clark, I don't know how many ways I have to tell you this, but I don't care _what_ your secret is! I don't care if you're…" Shrugging her shoulders, she named the most outlandish things she could think of that his secret could be, "If you're a secret agent or…or a meteor freak, or…or a much, _much_ better put together version of Frankenstein's monster! I want you, you big idiot – which I would think would be pretty obvious seeing as how I'm sitting on your lap – and I know you want me too." Her lips quirking in a smirk, she let her eyes drop towards his lap before she looked back up at him with a significant look. "But if you really think you can try to pretend like you don't want this as much as I do, I guess I'm just going to have to prove it to you!"

There was no mistaking the flash of desire in his eyes at her declaration, but he leaned back a little and challenged, "You will, huh? And how exactly do you propose doing that?"

Grinning mischievously at him, she relaxed, recognizing that, at least for now, he wasn't going to let his generally-charming-but-currently-stupid chivalry force her to take another shower tonight – and a cold one at that. "I tell you what, Smallville…if you really think you can resist me, do everything you can to keep that towel of yours on and I'll do everything in my power to convince you to take it off."

Clark laughed. "Okay, it's a dare. But…um…not here." In a smooth motion, he cupped her under her thighs and lifted. As she tightened her legs instinctually around his hips, clinging tightly to him, he stroke confidently towards the bedroom. The friction the towel made against her thighs was driving her a little mad, but by the pained expression on his face, she could tell that at least she wasn't alone. So maybe it was worth it.

Inside the bedroom, Clark paused by the bed, looking first at the mattress and then at her. "Problem?" she taunted him, still clinging to him as she arched her back to grind her pelvis against his. She couldn't hide her satisfied smile when her motion elicited a soft grunt in reply, but he still didn't release her.

"Stop that!" he finally managed to command when she did it again. "I'm trying to figure out how to put you down without losing my towel, since I'm not about to lose this bet!" When she grinned at him, he amended a little sheepishly, "At least not yet."

"Well, since we both know it's a foregone conclusion that you're going to give in eventually, maybe you should just – yeep!" Her taunt broke off in a soft cry when Clark, apparently deciding on a solution to his problem, released her abruptly, shoving her gently back onto the mattress with one hand as he made a desperate grab for his towel with the other. It actually took her a few seconds to process her sudden change in position, and then she leaned back and howled with laugher. "You jerk!" she cried as she lunged for his towel. "Just for that, I ought to…!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" he reprimanded her with a laugh, dancing out of her reach. "You said you'd _convince_ me to take it off, remember!"

Since she could no longer reach him unless she got off the bed, Lois realized she had a choice. She could jump to her feet and chase him down, wrestling him out of his towel if she managed to catch him, or she could…well, she could do exactly what she promised to do and convince him that he wanted to join her right where she was.

Scooting back a couple of feet, she knelt in the middle of the bed and rested her weight on her heels, tilting her head to the side as she considered the man in front of her. "So I did," she acknowledged as she lifted her hands to her shirt and slowly undid the top button. "I guess I'd better get started on that, huh?"

She could feel the intensity of his gaze as she undid the next button, exposing another inch of skin but, as she undid yet another button, she didn't part the fabric to expose what lay beneath. Instead, had been unfastened, she sighed heavily, knowing the motion would cause the fabric to part just a little bit more. "Well? You going to just stand over there, or are you going to join me?"

He didn't move; she wasn't entirely sure he'd heard her challenge. So, just to make him sweat, she raised up onto her knees and moved her hands behind her back. With an evil grin, she hooked her thumbs into the line of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs, shifting her weight so she could pull them off and toss them at him. He caught them against his chest in an automatic gesture, but his eyes didn't leave her as she leaned back onto the bed, resting her weight against her palms, her breasts straining against the fabric of her half-undone shirt. "Well?" she asked again. "Giving up already?"

"H-hardly," he choked. Though she could tell he was doing his best to fix a nonchalant expression to his face, she could see the erection tenting the front of his towel as she walked over to the bed and lowered himself onto it. For a moment, she was disappointed, but then he lifted his hands and hooked them behind his head. With a pretend yawn, he smirked over at her. "That all you got, Lane?"

She couldn't help but laugh. Now he was getting into the spirit of things! "Hardly, Smallville," she said coyly as she scooted closer to him. Eyeing him closely, she tried to plan her next move. Her decision made, she grinned and remarked causally, "You know, I don't think I finished my examination earlier. You might have all kinds in injuries I haven't found yet!"

"You think so?" he asked a bit dubiously, but she didn't reply as she slung a leg over his hips, straddling him once more. Moving very deliberately, she lowered herself onto him, brushing her pelvis against his erection as she settled her weight against him. "Oh, so sorry!" she said with mock sweetness when she saw his pained expression. "Does this bother you?"

"N-no, it's fine," he said in a brave attempt to sound casual. "You're fine."

"Good!" she said brightly, bringing her hands to rest gently against his shoulders. "Now, I don't see any bruises, but you never know. You could have bruised a rib, and you know how painful that can be. In the interest of safety, it's only right that I make sure you're okay."

"If you say so," he agreed placidly, and though she could see a muscle jumping in his jaw, she had to admire the fact that he'd managed to regain his composure so that their little game could continue.

Running her hands down his shoulders to his chest, she examined him closely. "Let me know if I hit any particularly…_tender_ area, okay?" As he grunted his assent, she traced her fingernails gently down his chest, stopping when she came upon a blemish on his skin. "Oh, you know, I think I've found a bruise!"

Clark lifted his head slightly to look down at what she was indicating. "Lois, that's a freckle," he said in mind confusion.

"I think it's a very small bruise," she corrected him. Scooting backward (her movement causing him to suck in a sharp breath again), she leaned down and brushed her lips softly against his freckle before making a path to his nipple, which she flicked with her tongue, causing him to start.

"L-Lois, that's…that's not an injury, it's my n-nipple," he wheezed as she did it again.

Lifting her head, she glowered at him. "Hey! Which one of us has medical training?" she demanded. "Hey, look! Another one!" She lavished the same attention on his other nipple, smiling to herself when it produced the desired result. Before raising up again, she tilted her head to scrape her teeth against the sensitive skin at his side, causing him to jump once more.

Acting as if the man beneath her wasn't panting heavily, she gazed critically at the bare stomach exposed beneath her and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Then she moved her hands to his ribcage and began to stroke him very lightly with her fingertips, enjoying the way he jumped under her touch. "Tender?" she asked him as she moved towards his stomach and his breath began to come out in short little gasps.

"M-maybe a l-little," he replied with as much composure as he could manage, given that she was doing her best to tickle him senseless. Lowering his head, she began to kiss his stomach, moving ever closer to the towel that was slung against his lower hips. When the red fabric prevented her from moving any lower, she nibbled gently on the sensitive skin right above his hips, not stopping until he was practically writing beneath her. Then, taking the fabric of the towel between her teeth, she tugged gently. She felt the fabric begin to part beneath her, but stopped before it parted completely. He was driving her crazy every time he jerked against her and wanted nothing more than to rip off the towel, but she didn't. She wanted him to do it.

"Anything else hurt?" she asked abruptly instead as she lifted her head, trying very hard to faken nonchalance as she looked down at him.

It took him a moment to reply, his breathing heavy as he answered, "Well you know, I did get punched a few times right…here," he pointed to the corner of his mouth, "And you haven't done anything about that yet."

Grinning, Lois crawled up his body, stretching out on top of him as she captured his mouth with hers. What started as a tender kiss grew deeper as Clark took a hand out from behind his head and cupped her behind her neck, pinning her to him. They teased each other with tongue and teeth, neither giving an inch of ground as they tried to get the other to relent.

As she kissed him, Lois allowed her hands to run along the lines of his body, memorizing the feel of his skin beneath her touch until she pulled back slightly and cupped him through the towel, wrapping her fingers lightly around his erection. "How about this, Clark? Does this hurt?' she teased him as she stroked him gently.

"Stop that," he commanded, shifting his weight suddenly until Lois lay on her back, his body covering her. She still hadn't released him, so, with a groan, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the bed next to her head. "That's not fighting fair."

"Of course it's not," she said unashamedly as she hooked a leg behind his and arched up against him. "But when did I ever promise to fight fair?"

Clark's breath was harsh against her skin as he bent to kiss the soft skin of her neck. One hand continued to pin her hand by her head as he lowered the other to the folds of her shirt. "You tease," he reprimanded her as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric.

"You want it off?" she asked raggedly as he stroked her with his fingertips. "Go ahead." When he didn't move, she feigned a yawn and added, "I'm waiting, Smallville!"

Her taunt catapulted him into action. Before she could say anything else, he lifted his weight off of her with a laugh. Though she'd expected him to finish unbuttoning her shirt, he grabbed its folds and yanked, ripping off the last few buttons. She heard the soft ping of a button hitting the ground, but before she could recover from her shock, his hands and mouth where upon her as he worshipped her body.

Whatever reprimand she'd been forming was lost in a symphony of sighs and moans as together, Clark and Lois explored each other's bodies. By the time Clark finally decided to show her mercy, Lois was panting heavily, her body trembling beneath his. "Damn it," she growled when she could manage to speak again, looking down his body with a glower. "That has got to be the most stubborn towel ever in the history of mankind."

His chuckle did not improve her mood. "Willing to concede defeat?" he taunted her, rubbing up against her in a way that was destined to drive her absolutely insane.

She frowned thoughtfully up at him. "No," she finally declared, pushing him back onto his back once more. "But I do think I should check to make sure you haven't cheated and superglued the damn thing shut or anything.

Clark laughed, though his chuckle became increasingly shaky as she worked her way down his body with agonizing slowness. "You think I cheated?"

"I think it's possible," she answered, pausing to let her hair tickle his bare skin.

"And wh-what would you do if I had ch-cheated?" he breathed as she kissed the particularly tender area of his stomach that she'd found during her explorations earlier.

"Make you pay, of course," she said gravely as she shifted further south. When she came to the erection still covered in the damned towel, she paused and looked up at him. "Maybe read you your rights."

"M-my rights?" he asked, lifting his head to look down at her, confusion etched on his face.

"Yup. You know, like…you have the right to remain silent…if you can manage it." As she spoke, she parted the folds of the towel, being careful not to untie it completely as she exposed him to her gaze. Then, before he could protest, she wrapped her fingers around his length, feeling the way he jerked in her grip as she flicked the sensitive tip of his penis with her tongue. She felt the muscles of his legs tense and then she lifted her head off of him and looked innocently up at him as she continued, "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"L-Lois, I don't think you should…" he began to protest, but she didn't let him finish. Instead, she ducked her head again and took him into her mouth, swallowing his length with excruciating slowness. Then, stroking him with her tongue, she lifted her mouth off of him just as slowly.

"You have the right to an attorney," she panted, stroking him with one hand while she scraped the nails of her other hand along the inside of his thigh. "If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

"L-Lois!" he protested as she moved cupped his testicles and began to knead them gently.

She was merciless, however, as she finished, "Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?" As she spoke, she lowered her head, prepared to take him into her mouth again, but she didn't get a chance. With a curse, he leaned down, hooked his hands around her ribcage, and dragged her up his chest again.

Her name was both a plea and a curse on his lips as she lowered herself onto him, and she sighed as he entered her, stretching her completely. His muscles strained against her as he pulled her tightly against him and moved with her, bucking up against her as she rode him. Their mating was almost wild as each of them alternated between taking control and then relinquishing it, surging against each other with increasing intensity again and again. Clutching Clark's shoulders, Lois moaned loudly as she rode him, his fingers digging into her hips as he took her to the edge and over. It didn't take long until he followed, his muscles corded and his head thrown back as he poured himself into her as he cried out her name.

Lois continued to clutch him, trembling in his arms as her heart rate slowed and she came back to herself. It took her a couple of moments before she could pull away from him, and then she looked down at where their bodies were still joined and grinned. "It looks like I won," she said smugly through her pants.

Following her gaze with his own, he frowned. "You cheated."

"Did not," she argued. That towel came undone all on its own, and that means I win."

"No, the bet was that you'd convince me to take it off, and I didn't do that," he replied.

Arching her eyebrows at him, she challenged, "You're arguing semantics now? You weren't complaining a few minutes ago."

"You just hate to lose," he retorted, though the quirk of his mouth took the edge off his words. "The bet was that you couldn't convince me to take off my towel and you can't prove that you did."

"You can't prove I didn't," she responded in kind, her eyes flashing.

A silence fell between them for a long moment as they both stared down at the towel in question. It didn't seem inclined to provide a tie-breaking vote on the issue, so finally Lois looked back up at Clark with a sigh. "So, what do you wanna do about this, Smallville?"

He looked back up at her, a thoughtful look on his face. "I don't think we have any other option, Lois. We're just going to have to try it again. You try to seduce me, and I'll try to resist."

Lois pondered his suggestion. "How about best two out of three?" she suggested with a wicked grin as she lifted herself off of him slowly.

Clark laughed. "It's a deal! Except…"

When he paused, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "Yeah?" she asked with a certain amount of trepidation. Had he somehow just decided he didn't really want to have sex with her again?

Her fears evaporated in the face of Clark's mischievous smile. "If we do this too many times, I'm really going to need to get some new shirts."


End file.
